


it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you

by thealienmeme



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Almost no plot, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas fic, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Eventual Romance, First Kiss, Fluff, Hallmark Christmas, Happy Ending, Human AU, Human!Aziraphale, Human!Crowley, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Strangers to Lovers, This is a Hallmark Christmas movie AU, just two idiots falling in love in a small village at Christmas, listen it's just really fluffy and soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealienmeme/pseuds/thealienmeme
Summary: crowley is a journalist at the top of his game. he asks hard questions and never lets a story slip through his tight grip, but he's also never taken a vacation. with encouragement from his boss, he books a cabin on the outskirts of the small town of Tadfield to rent out for the month of december so he can finally relax and maybe work on his book. he doesn't have any family anyways and he isn't really a fan of christmas or the holidays...then a snow storm hits.stranded in Tadfield proper, he meets a fussy bookshop owner and learns that maybe christmas just needed a little more love.***UPDATES EVERY DAY IN DECEMBER
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 196
Kudos: 285
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WELCOME, ALL!! i decided i wanted to do a GOmens christmas fic just like i did last year, except this time i wanted to try my hand at writing a hallmark-style christmas story. a big disclaimer is that i haven't seen many, but i know the basic outline and wanted to give it my best shot! so here it is!!! 
> 
> more shouting out to kaleigh and aeron, as always, for putting up with my bullshit

_ Christmas is a time to celebrate family, friends, and every sort of loved one in-between. It’s a time of cheer and togetherness, of hot cocoa and imperfectly wrapped gifts, meals full of love, and most importantly: stories. You know some of the classics, of course - The little reindeer who used his miraculously glowing nose to save the day; or the Grinch who attempted to stop a joyous celebration by destroying a town’s spirit; or a mean old boss who needed the supernatural to show him how nasty he had been to his fellow man.  _

_ The main character in this particular tale isn’t quite a Grinch nor is he a Scrooge, but he does come quite close. This story is about one Mr. Anthony J. Crowley. There are not any ghosts of Christmas past nor bullied reindeer. Our story begins in a tall building in London, a month before Christmas…  _

Crowley was having a bad Wednesday. 

The main source for the article he had been working on for the last week and a half had backed out, citing the fact that “the holidays are coming up, and I can’t be responsible for hundreds of layoffs.” 

Shows how dedicated to the truth they are. Yes, if the article had gone forward with the information from the source, it may have cost a few hundred people their livelihood right before the holidays, but was that really so important? 

Crowley debated with himself back and forth while he waited for the lift to take him to his editor’s office. He would have to rewrite the entire lede and change the angle. It would be a pain, but he could manage it and still have the article out by this week’s edition by the skin of his teeth. 

The elevator dinged and a woman with a toddler got on. Crowley glanced down at the child. She was dressed in a green satin dress, a little red bow affixed to her blonde ponytail. The girl looked up at Crowley and smiled. Crowley pushed his sunglasses up and stared back ahead. 

Finally, they reached the 15th floor and Crowley exited, ignoring the little girl’s small wave as he left. The entire floor looked like it was right out of a Harrods advert, wreaths littering the doors and tinsel in every available white space. He blew right past the secretary and opened the door to Beez’s office, not bothering to knock. 

“Beez! Great to see you, boss, you’re looking well,” Crowley exclaimed as he sat down in the black leather chair opposite Beez’s desk, setting his messenger bag on the floor. “Listen, if this is about the Unilever piece, I have it covered. We can workshop the angle and maybe save some jobs as a result. Win-win, if you ask me.” 

Beez just stared at Crowley, their fingers steepled in front of their face, lips pursed. Crowley stayed silent for a few more seconds before he started to get uncomfortable. Beez studied him another beat before sighing. 

“That’s fine, Crowley - about the article, I mean.” Beez leaned back in their chair. “There’s something else we need to discuss.” 

Crowley didn’t like the sound of that. Usually Beez was pretty straight forward with him about his performance and he liked to think that they had a pretty solid boss-employee relationship. Not to mention that Crowley was their star reporter. He always triple-checked his sources and was applauded by the entire city for his dedication being fair, truthful, and unbiased. 

That being said, he also was fairly anxious and he could feel his heart pounding against his chest. 

“And what would that be?” he asked, sounding calmer than he felt. 

“You need to take a break.” 

Crowley scoffed. He hadn’t taken a holiday in the five years he had worked for Morningstar Daily and he wasn’t about to start now. Not when this story could lead to an entire month’s worth of follow-up articles. 

“Beez, listen, you and I both know that we can’t afford for me to take a holiday right now,” Crowley stood up and began pacing. “This Unilever article is going to be-” 

“That wasn’t a suggestion, you nitwit.” 

Beez slammed their hand on their desk. They may be tiny, standing at only about 5’2, but they could certainly be scary when they wanted to be. Crowley shut up and sat back down in the chair. 

“Look, you haven’t had a break in a few years,” Beez started, smoothing down their cardigan. “I’m not asking, I’m telling you. You have four weeks of paid vacation that expire at the end of the year and I will not allow you to let them waste away like you have every other year. I’ve already scheduled for you to take them. Your holiday starts Friday, after we push this article.” 

Crowley’s mouth was agape. Friday? 

“Beez-” 

“End of discussion.” Beez got up and walked over to their coffee pot. “Take some time, enjoy the holidays, rent a cabin, work on that book I  _ know _ you’ve been trying to write, and just chill.” 

Crowley tried to remember the last time he had “chilled.” He thinks it was some time in college. 

Beez had a point, though. Crowley had been trying his hand at fiction and was hoping to finish at least  _ writing _ an entire novel. He didn’t necessarily have to have it published anywhere. It was more to see if he could actually put pen to paper this story he has had brewing since his high school lit class. 

“Beez, you know I don’t have any family to spend the holidays with,” Crowley started, insisting on fighting this. “I just want to keep working.” 

“Too bad,” Beez said, smiling into their mug. “The vacation was already approved by HR and the bags under your eyes are becoming a sore sight. I’m not telling you to go full National Lampoon, just take a month off and enjoy whatever it is you enjoy. Now, get out of my office before you try to fight me on this again.” 

Crowley sighed and picked up his back. There was no use. Arguing with Beez resulted in nothing but frustration and defeat every single time without fail. 

“Fine,” Crowley replied. He was already mentally planning on how he could sneak back into the office right after Christmas to work through the New Year without Beez noticing. 

“Good.” Beez began typing on their computer and Crowley took that as his cue to leave. 

He shut the door to the office and scowled at the ground. A holiday. Great. He didn’t even know what people  _ did _ on holiday. He supposed he should at least take the opportunity to get out of London. Beez said something about renting a cabin, that could work. He just needed some wifi and his laptop and he could try working on his book and maybe get some fresh air while he was at it. 

Crowley pulled out his smart phone and began searching up cabins that weren’t too far of a drive and still taking bookings this close to the holidays. 

He scrolled through his options all the way down the lift and to his desk. He sat down and wrinkled his nose. A putrid smell was coming from the desk on the other side of the cubicle wall. It was probably Hastur. He kept many pet toads and the result was his entire person smelling like pond scum. 

After a few more minutes of idling scrolling, Crowley found a one-bedroom cabin for rent in a small area just outside of Oxford. Without giving it another thought, Crowley booked the cabin starting this coming Monday. 

He leaned back in his office chair and took a deep breath. Cracking his knuckles, he opened his laptop and made some adjustments to his article.

A few hours later, he looked up and noticed it had grown dark all around him. There were still a bunch of people at the office, little yellow lights glowing here and there as people typed away hunched over their desks. He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes before sending the article to Beez for final edits. 

Tomorrow they would publish the article and Friday started his vacation. 

As he packed up his bag and began heading toward the car park, he thought about what he’d fill the next month doing. He always wanted to try his hand at making a traditional Christmas dinner, and he had a few shows he had been meaning to catch up, not to mention all the movies he’s missed in the last few years. He thought about four whole weeks of not worrying about sources or whether or not the mayor’s office would be on his back or if he made too many grammar mistakes. 

Crowley smiled to himself as he walked toward the vintage Bentley he drove. Maybe this break wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley encounters a bad cup of coffee, a quaint diner, and an even quainter man

This break was a terrible idea. 

It was Monday and Crowley was currently stuck on the M25, as he had been for over two hours now. Brits see a few inches of snow and suddenly forget how to drive. He slammed his head onto the wheel and sighed. What was only supposed to be an hour and a half trip was quickly turning into a four to five hour ordeal. 

Crowley tugged his scarf around his neck tighter. He loved owning a vintage car, he had dreamed of doing so since he was a kid going to car shows, but the heating unit was absolute shit and despite having it on the highest setting, he could practically see his breath. 

About 15 minutes later, traffic started moving. Crowley sent a silent prayer up or down to whoever may be listening. Honestly, at this point he thinks Satan must control the traffic, so he aimed his praise somewhat downwards. 

He drove a little farther before his stomach grumbled. Right. He hadn’t eaten anything today. He checked the time on the Bentley clock and saw that it was already reaching 6 p.m. Pulling up Maps on his phone, he found what looked like a quaint diner in a town that he had to pass through anyways to get to the cabin. A place called Tadfield. 

The yelp reviews for ‘Delectable Device Diner’ seemed positive enough, but now that Crowley recognized that he was hungry, he’d eat just about anything. 

He pulled into the parking lot and got out, practically running into the restaurant as a strong gust of wind blew snowflakes up his nose. Stepping inside, he immediately realized two things: one, it was very, very warm and cozy in this diner, which actually looked more like a pub without a bar. It had rich, brown walls and flooring and a fireplace with a squishy looking couch and loveseat in front of it. The second thing was that he was the only customer in sight, minus a blond gentleman in the corner reading. 

Crowley dusted off his jacket and took a seat by the fireplace, shivering the last of the cold out of his body. Gloves carefully discarded onto the table beside him, Crowley sank further into the seat. He tried not to think about how many bodies have probably done the same and focused on being able to feel his toes again. 

A few moments passed before a tall, lanky man with brown hair and glasses approached him.

“Hello, sir,” the young man said to Crowley. “Can I get you a menu?” 

Crowley’s stomach growled loudly. 

“Yeah, a menu would be fine and a cup of coffee, if you would.” Crowley smiled at him politely and wondered if he’s the only employee. Crowley certainly hadn’t seen anyone else before him and, looking around for a second time, confirmed that the only other person was the bloke tucked away in the corner. 

Crowley heard a thump and looked outside. His jaw dropped as he saw the light snowfall from earlier was now a veritable raging storm. Shooting up from his seat, Crowley went over to the window and put a hand up to the glass. There was no way he’d be able to drive in this weather. 

“Oh dear, it seems to be coming down pretty hard out there,” the blond man said, looking up at Crowley. 

“You think?” Crowley asked, beginning to panic. If he couldn’t make it to the cabin, where would he stay? Were there any hotels in the area? And would they have rooms? The last time he slept in a car was over two decades ago and he wasn’t looking forward to re-living that particular experience as a 45-year-old. 

The blond man was looking out the window thoughtfully. He closed his book and walked over to Crowley, sticking his hand out. 

“Aziraphale.” 

Crowley stared at the hand. 

“Er, gesundheit.” 

The blond man laughed. It was a beautiful sound, bright and sparkling. His face relaxed with it and pink dusted his round cheeks. Crowley felt warmer than he had been when he was sitting by the fire. 

“No, dear, that’s my name,” the blond man was still holding out his hand. “Aziraphale Fell, at your service.” 

Crowley shook the hand. It was as soft as the man attached to it and it gave him the opportunity to give this stranger a slow once over. He was wearing a light cream sweater with a buttoned down tartan shirt underneath, the collar just poking out. He had on brown pants and a pair of comfortable looking snow boots. Behind the little reading glasses he was wearing were a pair of grey-blue eyes. Crowley felt inexplicably drawn to them. 

The man - Aziraphale - cleared his throat. 

“And your name is…?” 

Crowley shook his head. 

“Sorry, mate - Anthony Crowley,” Crowley winced at his awkward flub. “But my friends just call me Crowley.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him. 

“Am I to assume we are friends, then?” Aziraphale asked, a playful smile on his lips. 

“We can be,” he replied with a wink. 

Aziraphale laughed again and Crowley felt a little drunk with it. Was this flirting? Crowley couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely flirted with  _ anyone _ , but he was pretty sure he was now. Aziraphale was just so cute and had an adorable sense of style, if not a little outdated. 

It was then that the waiter returned with Crowley’s coffee. 

“Newt, be a dear and bring his coffee and menu over to my table,” Aziraphale instructed the waiter, before turning back to Crowley. “It looks like me and my new friend here are going to have to wait out this storm.” 

Crowley smiled at him. 

“That is, if that’s alright with you, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked, his smile flickering. 

Crowley thinks he must have died at some point because he was clearly in the presence of an angel. This sweet man didn’t even know Crowley from any other scumbag who happened to drag their sorry ass into this diner, but here he was offering to keep him company while he waited out the storm. 

“I think that’s perfectly alright, angel.” Crowley flinched at the slip-up. He hadn’t meant to call him angel out loud. 

Instead of changing his mind and making Crowley wait by himself or accusing him of being some sort of creep like Crowley briefly thought would happen, Aziraphale just shot him another heart melting smile. Crowley tugged at his scarf a bit before taking it off completely, along with his jacket and hat, hanging them up on the coat rack, and walking over to Aziraphale’s spot. 

Crowley followed him to his table and sat down across from Aziraphale before he noticed that he was giving him an amused look.

“What?” Crowley asked, squirming in his seat. 

“Nothing, just… well, your hair. I’m afraid it’s sort of messed up,” Aziraphale replied. “Let me just-” 

Aziraphale reached across the table and smoothed down Crowley’s fly aways. Crowley stilled. Was he dreaming or was this incredibly soft and cute man really touching his hair? Aziraphale ran his hand over a few more strands before settling back into his seat. 

“There we go, much better.” 

Crowley felt his entire face heat up. 

“Ngh, th- thank you.” 

“Not a problem, dear.” 

There he went with the casual pet name, again. Crowley tried to relax. This was just a kind stranger being a good samaritan. Crowley was clearly alone and now stranded and Aziraphale just felt bad for him. 

“Well, since we’ll probably be here a while, I think we should get to know each other. How does that sound?” Aziraphale picked up his tea, which had to have gone cold at this point, and took a sip. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?” 

Crowley settled into his seat and took a sip of his own drink. 

“Ask away, angel.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two strangers become tentative friends as the snow storm rages on and aziraphale makes an offer crowley can't (and doesn't want to) refuse

Two hours later, Aziraphale and Crowley were laughing at their table like they were old friends. 

Aziraphale asked how Crowley found himself in their little tucked away town and found out that Crowley was a workaholic journalist just trying desperately to enjoy his first vacation in a few years. Crowley, for his part, learned that Aziraphale owned an old bookshop in town and had been living there his entire life. He came to Delectable Device Diner every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening to read and enjoy the food. 

They also discovered that they had opposite opinions on almost everything from the various interpretations of Shakespeare plays to which wine pairs best with a good roast. Crowley had quite the sarcastic streak and Aziraphale was extremely gullible, and yet despite it all, they fit together just right.

Crowley wiped the tears from his eye. He can’t remember the last time he genuinely laughed this much. They beamed at each other for a few seconds before Aziraphale tutted and looked out the window. 

“Good lord, it hasn’t slowed a bit.” Crowley peeled his eyes away from Aziraphale’s face and frowned. It had become a full-blown whiteout outside. Crowley could just barely make out the shape of the Bentley, parked not ten feet from the entrance. 

“Listen, Aziraphale, you don’t have to keep waiting around with me,” Crowley said. “I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure I’ll be here for a while.” 

Aziraphale bit his lip in thought. 

“Dear, you do know the restaurant is closing soon, right?” Aziraphale gestured to Newt, who was turning up the chairs and wiping down tables. “You can’t stay here all night.” 

Crowley had figured that would end up being the case. He idly wondered if there really were any motels in this town. There had to be. Small town like this so close to the city probably gets tons of people just like Crowley, looking for a place to unwind from all the stress and anxiety of London. 

“Hm, you’re right of course,” Crowley started. “Do you have any motels in this town?” 

Aziraphale frowned again. Crowley made a mental note to stop saying anything that made him make that face. 

“Er, well, no, actually,” Aziraphale was fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater. “Madame Tracy usually runs a small bed and breakfast, but she’s closed up for the season. We don’t get many visitors around the holidays, Tadfield is more of a summer getaway.” 

Crowley groaned and put his head in his hands. Maybe he would have to sleep in the Bentley, after all. 

“You could come with me.” 

Crowley peered at Aziraphale through his fingers. 

“You don’t have to do that, angel,” Crowley mumbled. 

Aziraphale blushed, as he had every time Crowley called him his new nickname. It was a gorgeous sight and if the last two hours were any evidence, Crowley doubted he’d grow tired of it. 

“Oh, please. My bookshop is right around the corner and you have nowhere to stay,” Aziraphale stood up and made for the coat rack. “It’s really no trouble at all.” 

Crowley wasn’t about to deny a warm place to stay twice, so he got up and grabbed his things. 

“Have a good night, Newt!” Aziraphale called to the kitchen area. “Ready to go, dear?” 

Crowley patted his pockets and adjusted his hat. He opted to leave his scarf hang loosely around his neck, untied. 

Aziraphale looked warily at the scarf. 

“Crowley, it’s freezing out there,” Aziraphale scolded. “Here, allow me to just…” 

Aziraphale reached up and wrapped Crowley’s scarf snugly around him. He was so close, Crowley could smell his cologne - it was sweet and warm. Like vanilla and hot cocoa and being wrapped in a very fluffy blanket with a good book. 

Once Aziraphale had Crowley sufficiently swaddled, he looked up at him. His hands didn’t move from the scarf. Their faces were only a few scant inches apart and Crowley felt a fierce urge to kiss him. Aziraphale’s eyes flicked to look at Crowley’s lips and he felt himself sway forward ever so slightly. 

“Good night, Mr. Fell!” Newt called out, finally coming out from the back. “And good night to you, too, Mr. Crowley.” 

Aziraphale smiled and turned to Newt. 

“Tell Anathema I said ‘hello,’ will you?” Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand and tugged him out the door. 

They were immediately hit with a strong gust of wind. Crowley almost fell over several times on the short walk to Aziraphale’s bookshop, but after only about five minutes, Aziraphale pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door to what was probably a large building. Crowley couldn’t quite tell as a few stray snowflakes had gotten inside of his sunglasses. 

“Just a moment,” Aziraphale pushed hard against the door and it flew wide open. He ushered Crowley inside and slammed the door behind them. 

“Christ, how long do you reckon it’ll last?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale moved past him to walk toward the back of the shop. 

Once Crowley’s eyes adjusted, he could see just how many books there were. Every available free spot was taken up by piles and piles of books. Stacks of them here, a row of them there, and there had to be at least 40 bookcases lining the walls. 

“Long foretold, long last, short notice, soon passed,” Aziraphale replied. 

“Didn’t realize I was talking to a fortune cookie,” Crowley said, still looking around in wonder before landing on Aziraphale’s face. 

Aziraphale just smiled at him. 

“It’s an old saying. They’ve been going on about how there was going to be a bad snowstorm on the telly for the last week or so,” Aziraphale walked through an archway and Crowley found them in a small room with a large, comfy looking couch and a fireplace. “So, I guess that means it could last for a while.” 

Crowley groaned and flopped onto the couch as Aziraphale started up the fire. Once the fire was sufficiently lit, Crowley turned his face toward it to soak up all the heat he could. Aziraphale chuckled at him and moved to take off his outwear. 

“So, is everyone in Tadfield the kind of person who would be willing to welcome a perfect stranger into their home during a snowstorm or is it just you who is that trusting?” Crowley asked, sitting up to take off his coat. 

Aziraphale sat down next to him. 

“I would like to think that we’d all be willing to help someone in need, but that might just be my good nature talking.” 

Crowley took off his boots and flexed his toes in his socks before putting them in front of the fire. 

“Well, I promise not to take advantage of it,” Crowley replied. And he meant it. He can’t remember the last time he met someone so… good. “I’ll be out of your hair in a bit, just need to warm up first.” 

He watched as Aziraphale frowned. 

“You know, you can stay,” Aziraphale said. Crowley stared at him with wide eyes. Was he really suggesting that Crowley stay the night? Not that Crowley was complaining, but they had just met. There was no way Aziraphale was  _ that _ trusting… was he? 

“Only if you want,” Aziraphale quickly amended. “I know you paid for a full four weeks at that cabin of yours, but surely you won’t be able to make it tonight. I live in the flat upstairs, so I’ll be just a shout away.” 

Crowley smiled at him and watched as he fidgeted once more with his sweater sleeves. 

“Well, if you’re offering…” 

Aziraphale smiled back at him. They stared at each other like a pair of loons for a second before Aziraphale muttered something about getting extra blankets and pillows and excused himself. 

Crowley took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his coat, which was now hanging off the back of the couch. He had to get a hold of himself. Yes, Aziraphale was very cute, and sweet, and funny, and kind, and amazing. But they had met no more than three hours ago. They barely knew each other. 

_ Oh, but I want to know him, _ Crowley thought to himself. 

Aziraphale came back a few minutes later with a handful of cozy looking blankets and pillows. He dropped them all onto the floor next to the couch and stared at Crowley for a beat. 

“Crowley?” 

“Hm?”    
  
“Feel free to say no, but would you want to have a quick nightcap, by chance?” Aziraphale glanced at the clock. It was only about 9 p.m. “I have some of that wine that I mentioned earlier in the cellar.” 

Crowley felt his stomach flip. Aziraphale wanted to spend more time with him. 

“Sure, angel,” Crowley replied. 

Aziraphale beamed and scurried off back into the bookshop. Crowley sat back on the couch and sighed. He hoped the snow never let up. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aziraphale unlocks crowley's tragic backstory and why christmas just isn't really his thing

Crowley was not drunk. He and Aziraphale finished the bottle of wine, which was now sitting on the floor between them, and had gotten so lost in conversation that they never opened another one. And that was perfectly fine with Crowley. 

He liked Aziraphale. He was an excellent conversationalist and even humored Crowley on some of his more ridiculous tangents. Which led them to this moment, where they were arguing about whether ghosts were alive or not. 

“I’m telling you, angel, they’re alive!” Crowley practically shouted. “The person is dead, yes, but the ghost itself is alive.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

“The ghost is dead, that’s why it’s a ghost.” 

They had also gotten much closer as the night wore on. Aziraphale, who had started the night on the other side of the couch, was now sitting turned toward Crowley, their knees occasionally knocking.

“Yes but if it can talk and walk around and move objects and the like, wouldn’t you say that those are characteristics of something that is alive?” Crowley hedged. “Maybe not alive in this plane of existence, but it would still be alive somewhere.” 

Aziraphale pursed his lips. Crowley still wanted to kiss him. 

“Well…” 

Crowley laughed and pointed at him. 

“Ha! I got ya!” Crowley was smiling so hard it almost hurt. 

Aziraphale crossed his arms and looked away. 

“Either way, ghosts aren’t even real,” Aziraphale replied. “They’re just plot devices for stories. Like the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future. They’re not real in any tangible way, they’re more like manifested beings of self-reflection created to make a grumpy old man see why Christmas is about family and love and seeing the good in the world.” 

Now it was Crowley’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Not a fan of Christmas, I take it?” Aziraphale asked, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. 

Crowley flinched. He didn’t hate Christmas. He wasn’t a Grinch or a Scrooge or any of the other fictional characters who are notorious for hating the cheer of the holiday spirit. He just hadn’t had great experiences with it in the past. His parents left him with his grandma when he was only 8 years old, telling him they were going on a trip and would be back soon. 

They hadn’t come back, and his grandma passed when he was 10, leaving him to the foster care system. 

Every holiday since then just didn’t feel right. 

“I was, uh, in foster care for most of my childhood,” Crowley started, slowly. “Parents sort of abandoned me when I was a kid, so… it’s nothing against the holiday. I just haven’t ever really had a proper Christmas as far as I can remember.” 

Aziraphale frowned and put a hand on Crowley’s arm. 

“I’m so sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to-” 

“It’s alright, you didn’t know.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments before Aziraphale removed his hand and stood up, stretching. 

“Well, I think it’s time for bed, then, don’t you?” he collected their wine glasses and the empty bottle, setting them on the desk in the corner. 

Crowley still wasn’t quite tired but he also didn’t know Aziraphale’s sleep habits. He seemed the type to be an early riser. Crowley was more of a ‘stay up all night, don’t set an alarm, and sleep til whenever type person,’ but it had been a long day. So, he kicked his feet up and sprawled out on the couch, wiggling until he was comfortable. Aziraphale walked over and began piling the blankets on him. 

“Going to tuck me in, angel?” Crowley joked. 

Aziraphale laughed and instructed him to lift his head so he could put another pillow under it. 

“Do you want me to?” Aziraphale replied, softly. 

Crowley swallowed. This moment felt precious somehow. Like any slightly wrong move could break it. Aziraphale sounded serious, but what if he was just kidding? 

“Er, uh, s-sure,” Crowley replied, smacking himself internally for the stutter. 

Aziraphale just smiled down at him and kneeled next to the couch. He tucked the blankets underneath Crowley and smoothed them down gently. He was so close again, and Crowley had been itching to kiss him all night. He wondered if he would let him or if he even wanted Crowley to. He certainly used every excuse in the book to touch Crowley, so it probably wasn’t entirely out of the question. 

“Thanks,” Crowley whispered. “For everything, Aziraphale. I mean it. You didn’t have to take me in.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. Crowley couldn’t see it before, but he could see it now. 

“Of course, dear boy, it’s no trouble at all,” Aziraphale replied, looking down at Crowley’s lips before glancing back up to his eyes, now unhidden as they had been last time by his sunglasses. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you wear sunglasses?” 

Crowley laughed. 

“Light sensitivity. Believe it or not, it’s worse in the winter, what with the sunlight reflecting off of all that pure white snow. Most people just assume I’m being a tool.” 

“I don’t think you’re a tool,” Aziraphale looked away for a second before adding, “Well, I’m not sure if anyone has told you this before, but it’s a shame that you hide them, as you do have quite beautiful eyes.” 

Crowley felt himself blush. People had told him that before, came with the territory of having such odd, honey-colored irises, but they had never given Crowley butterflies like he had now. 

“I think I’ve heard that once or twice,” Crowley said, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. 

“Ah, well sorry for not being quite original,” Aziraphale eyes flicked toward his lips again. 

“S’okay, it sounds better coming from you, anyways.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him again and Crowley thought he might burst if he didn’t kiss him right now. Just as Crowley thought he was leaning forward, a loud knock came from the front of the bookshop. 

“I wonder who that could be at this hour in this weather,” Aziraphale asked, turning toward the door. “I’ll go, um, take a look.” 

Aziraphale got up and walked out of the room. Crowley groaned and thumped his head back against the pillow. He had been this close to getting a goodnight kiss from this beautiful being of light and  _ someone _ had to go and knock on the door, ruining everything. 

A few moments later, Aziraphale appeared holding a pair of gloves. 

“Newt said he found these before he left,” Aziraphale set them down on top of Crowley’s scarf and hat. “Said they looked expensive, so he wanted to be sure to return them.” 

Ah, so it was technically Crowley’s fault the moment had been ruined. Of course. To be fair to young Newt, they were in fact very expensive gloves. Crowley had bought them after his first big story. In a way, he supposed he was grateful to have them back, if not a bit miffed at their cost being a potential kiss from Aziraphale. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Aziraphale said, walking back toward the archway leading to the bookshop. “Good night, Crowley.” 

“Good night, Aziraphale.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lil aziraphale POV for the morning after their first meeting

Aziraphale woke up to a room filled with a blinding white light. 

For a moment, he thought he was having another one of those dreams where an angel visits him and then tells him something ridiculous like he’s pregnant with the new baby Jesus. After sitting up and blinking the sleep from his eyes a few more times, he remembered that it had been snowing for hours last night. 

He walked over to the window and threw open the curtains. What he found below was a certified winter wonderland. Aziraphale looked to the left of the shop and saw a group of children, a little gang called ‘the Them,’ wading through the snow and pelting each other with snowballs. It came up to their waists, meaning the snow had to be about three-feet deep. 

After staring out of his window in awe for a few beats, Aziraphale remembered that he had a certain very handsome guest sleeping on the couch in his back room. He blushed at the memory of almost kissing Crowley several times last night, only to stop short every time. 

Crowley was kind, and Aziraphale couldn’t shake the feeling that he already trusted him, but he was still technically a stranger. An acquaintance, at best. Aziraphale needed to move this progression much slower. 

Crowley wasn’t even from Tadfield. He was from  _ London _ , and only here for a month on holiday. Even if they were to become romantically involved, it would never work. Aziraphale sighed to himself. Still, he couldn’t help but wish it could.

Wrapping himself in his fluffiest robe and sliding on his slippers, Aziraphale made his way downstairs to the bookshop to see if Crowley was awake. It was about 9 a.m., which Aziraphale thought was a reasonable time to be awake, even for a late riser. 

Aziraphale padded into the backroom and found a heap of blankets on the couch, with a bit of red hair sticking out from the middle. He smiled at the pile and kneeled in front of the hearth to start another fire. 

Once the fire was crackling sufficiently, Aziraphale walked over to the kitchenette and put the kettle on. He knew Crowley liked coffee from their encounter yesterday at the diner, but he didn’t quite like the stuff and therefore didn’t have a pot. Tea would simply have to do. 

When the kettle whistled, Crowley shot up from the blankets, his hair sticking up every which way and his cheeks pink from the warmth of sleeping under about a dozen knit afghans. 

“Good morning, dear,” Aziraphale greeted, carrying two cups of tea over to the couch. 

“What time is it?” Crowley asked, rubbing his eyes. 

“It’s about 9:20 a.m., Tuesday, December 1st.” Aziraphale offered one of the cups to Crowley, who took it with both hands. “Sorry to wake you.” 

Crowley took a few sips of the tea and Aziraphale smiled and took note that he drank it black, like his coffee. 

_ Why are you keeping track of that, you old fool? It’s not like it matters, _ Aziraphale thought to himself. 

“S’okay,” Crowley set the now-empty mug on the floor and stretched. “I should probably get going to the cabin, anyway, as long as the snow has stopped.” 

Aziraphale realized then that while he had had a perfect view of the conditions outside, Crowley had not. 

“Ah, about that…” 

Crowley shot a puzzled look at Aziraphale. 

“So, it would seem that, while it has stopped snowing, there is now somewhere between three to four feet of snow outside.” Aziraphale took a final sip of his tea and gathered the cups to wash. 

Crowley groaned and flopped back down on the couch. 

“Bloody brilliant,” he muttered, digging his face into the blankets. “What am I supposed to do now?” 

Aziraphale bit his lip in contemplation. He continued washing the cups for a few more seconds before turning off the sink and wiping his hands on a tea towel. 

“Well, I mean-” he started. Crowley looked up at him. “You could keep staying here.” 

There was a beat of silence. 

“I mean, that is, if you- if you want to,” Aziraphale rushed to correct. “I don’t mean to make presumptions, and oh, of course you probably don’t want to spend your holiday sleeping on a couch in an old, dusty bookshop. Sorry, I didn’t-” 

“Angel.” 

Aziraphale stopped. He had almost forgotten the little pet name that was slowly worming its way right to the sweet spot in Aziraphale’s heart. Crowley was smiling at him. 

“As long as you don’t mind me, I’d be happy to stay,” Crowley said, his smile softening. “I’ll just have to grab a few things from my car and, well, my car.” 

“Oh, of course,” Aziraphale replied. “Do you need any assistance?” 

Crowley got up and walked over to his shoes. 

“Nah, I should be fine.” Crowley finished tying his shoes and walked over to his coat. Aziraphale had seen last night that the jacket Crowley had brought wasn’t particularly heavy. And it was  _ awfully _ cold out… 

“Dear, that jacket is far too thin,” Aziraphale walked over to his coat rack. “Here, wear mine. It’s quite fluffy and should be much warmer. Not that yours doesn’t make you look stylish, but I think we best opt for practical right now, to be safe.” 

Aziraphale grabbed his coat and brought it over to Crowley, holding it open for him to slide his arms in. Crowley stared at Aziraphale with wide eyes before turning around and letting Aziraphale guide the coat up onto his shoulders. He turned around to face Aziraphale as he pulled it tightly around Crowley’s chest. 

“There we are,” Aziraphale said, looking up into Crowley’s eyes. “All warm, yes?” 

Crowley was a little flushed, again. Must be the sudden warmth of the coat mixed with the fire. He seemed to be in some sort of stupor for a moment before snapping out of it. 

“Yep,” Crowley replied, popping the “p.” 

“I got this on sale at the local clothing outlet,” Aziraphale proudly announced, smoothing out the shoulders of the jacket and absolutely not just looking for an excuse to keep touching Crowley. “It even has tartan, which as we all know is very stylish-” 

Crowley snorted. 

“What?”

“Tartan is not stylish, Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale harrumphed and let go of Crowley to cross his arms. 

“Yes, well, some people like to have different colors and patterns in their wardrobe and not just  _ black _ ,” Aziraphale said, turning to walk toward the bookshop. 

Crowley’s laugh echoed through the aisles and settled around the shelves. 

“How dare you make such an accusation against me and my stylistic choices when you’ve only seen me in one outfit so far,” Crowley asked, following Aziraphale to the front door. 

Something about the “so far” made Aziraphale’s heart flutter. He secretly hoped that it took a few days for the roads to clear and, knowing the pace at which Tadfield’s snow plows work, realized that that just might end up being the case. 

He let Crowley out into the snow and watched him make the trek back to the diner through the window. Once Crowley was out of sight, he turned back to look at the shop. It was probably useless to open today, seeing as half the town was either not going to leave their houses or spend the entire day clearing driveways and building snowmen. 

A wonderful idea popped into Aziraphale’s head. He could keep the shop closed and spend the day decorating for Christmas. He would have to pull a few boxes out from the basement, but with Crowley’s help it wouldn’t be as hard as it usually is. It might even be fun! 

Aziraphale smiled, pleased at his idea, and made his way back up to his flat to get dressed. 

He tried not to daydream about decorating with Crowley, Andy Williams’ Christmas vinyl playing on the gramophone, the fireplace crackling away as they string tinsel over every shelf and hang ornaments on the tree. Maybe they would find a bough of mistletoe and laugh nervously before sharing a sweet kiss, tasting like candy canes and hot chocolate. 

Well, so much for not moving too fast. 

Aziraphale scolded himself as he tugged on a sweater and made another mug of tea, resolving to just let whatever happens with Crowley happen. He was a nice man and very handsome and seemed to like Aziraphale as much as Aziraphale was starting to like him. 

Plus, he reminded himself, it will be nice to have someone around during the holidays. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aziraphale and crowley decorate the bookshop, get festive, get nostalgic, and get closer

Crowley came back about an hour and 45 minutes later, loudly complaining about how long it had taken him to get all of the snow off of the Bentley and how his laptop had practically been frozen solid. Luckily, Newt had cleared the parking lot and dug a small path to the bookshop for Crowley to drive through. 

“Why do you have your laptop if you aren’t supposed to be working?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley shook the snow off of his hair. Crowley noted that he changed into yet another unbelievably soft looking sweater while Crowley had been gone. 

“It’s for, er, writing,” Crowley explained. “Well, not writing like for my job writing, but for fun writing.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, see I had always had this dream of writing a novel,” Crowley replied, taking his luggage to the back room. “And I never really have time to work on it, since my job is pretty demanding. Figured now was the best time to work on it. S’not often that you get a month-long holiday tossed into your lap.” 

He plopped his bags next to the couch and plugged his laptop in to charge. Hopefully it’ll warm back up and be fine. Otherwise, Beez will kill him for breaking  _ another _ work laptop. 

“A novel! My, that’s quite exciting,” Aziraphale replied. “What’s the plot? I sort of have a thing for reading.” 

“You don’t say,” Crowley said as he walked back out to the shop and leaned against a bookshelf.

“Oh, hush.” Aziraphale smiled fondly at Crowley. “Well, I can certainly leave you to write if you want, but I had been hoping for your assistance…” 

“Nah, I can help you with whatever it is you’re looking to do,” Crowley replied. 

Aziraphale was letting him stay here for free, so the least he could do was help him out whenever he could. Plus, it meant spending more time with the angel, and Crowley is quickly finding that he would do just about anything for more of that. 

“Oh, lovely,” Aziraphale’s smile softened a bit. “Well, I was hoping to start decorating for Christmas, it being December 1st and all, I think it’s more than the appropriate time. Plus, I can’t exactly open the shop in these weather conditions.” 

Crowley tried not to grimace again at the mention of Christmas. He wasn’t lying when he had told Aziraphale that he doesn’t hate the holiday, but that doesn’t mean he likes it either. Never having a family to celebrate with had put a weird taste to the whole thing, but he could tell that it was something Aziraphale most likely got  _ very _ into and well… he’d give it a try. For Aziraphale.

Who knows? Maybe it’ll be fun. 

“Of course, angel,” Crowley smiled back at him. “Where do we begin?” 

A few hours later, Crowley found himself sitting on the floor in front of a large, plastic Christmas tree. He was “fluffing” out the needles from the bottom as Aziraphale worked from the top. 

The shop was really starting to come together. They had pulled out about five large boxes from Aziraphale’s basement, filled with ornaments, tinsel, lights, holly, assorted Christmas tchotchkes, decorative throw pillows, tablecloths, and more. 

They had started with the tinsel, stringing it along the top of every bookshelf and intertwining multi-colored lights. Aziraphale had very specific spots for each of his little knick-knacks, because of course he did, including an entire mini-figurine set of the birth of Christ and a porcelain statuette of Garfield dressed as Santa. 

Christmas music was playing in the background from a record player that looked older than both Crowley and Aziraphale, empty mugs of hot chocolate were sitting by the till (Aziraphale had spiked them with peppermint schnapps) and overall it was nice. A warm feeling was settling in Crowley’s chest and he couldn’t help but think maybe this was the Christmas spirit. That, or the schnapps was finally kicking in. 

“Okay, dear, I think it’s ready for ornaments,” Aziraphale said, stepping back to give the tree a good once-over. “Let me just grab the box.” 

Crowley stood up and dusted off his pants, smiling at Aziraphale’s retreating figure. Aziraphale dug around in a few boxes before emerging with a plastic cube full of gold and red baubles and another, smaller cardboard box. 

“Here, we’ll start with these ones first,” Aziraphale said, handing Crowley the clear cube. “Then we’ll move on to the more sentimental ones.” 

“Sentimental?” Crowley asked as he started placing the red baubles and Aziraphale the gold ones. 

“Yes, they’re ornaments that I’ve been gifted over the years by friends and family,” Aziraphale replied. “Some are handmade, some were purchased, and some are even from my childhood, believe it or not.” 

“Ah, shouldn’t those ones go in a museum?” Crowley asked, playfully. Aziraphale swatted at his arm. 

“Oh, be quiet, you wily thing, we’re practically the same age,” Aziraphale tutted. 

“Noooo, I’m 45 and you’re 47, that’s  _ much _ older,” Crowley continued, a goofy grin on his face. “You’re practically a relic yourself.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and continued placing his remaining baubles. 

“Anyways, they don’t necessarily fit a ‘theme’ of sorts, but I always believed that Christmas trees aren’t meant to look aesthetically pleasing,” Aziraphale said, softly. “They’re more supposed to be a reflection of you and your life and loved ones.” 

Crowley hummed in response. He wondered what his Christmas tree would look like if he had one. Probably barren, if Aziraphale’s description of what a tree should look like was anything to go off of. 

Crowley placed the last of the red baubles and helped Aziraphale finish his. They tried to spread them out as evenly as possible, leaving little gaps here and there for the other ornaments. Finally, Aziraphale reached for the cardboard box. It was tattered and had a few water stains and the inside was filled with newspaper. Wrapped up delicately in the funnies were a bunch of ornaments of varying size. 

Crowley picked one up and examined it. It was a photo, encased in glass with fake snow floating around. There were three small children in the center. From left to right there was a boy of about six or seven, with stark black hair, a little girl about five with brown, and a toddler of around two with bright blond hair. 

Crowley smiled at the photo, recognizing the blond hair. 

“My siblings,” Aziraphale said, breaking the silence. “That’s my older brother, Gabriel, and my sister, Michael. And me, of course, on the end. Always the sore thumb, always so different from them.” 

Crowley’s heart sank a little as Aziraphale looked wistfully down at the ornament 

“I like different,” Crowley whispered. 

Aziraphale glanced up at him and smiled. They continued decorating as Andy Williams crooned his rendition of Away in a Manger. When Crowley placed the final ornament, Crowley stepped back and Aziraphale reached down and plugged in the lights. The tree lit up, casting a soft yellow glow on their faces. 

“It’s beautiful,” Crowley breathed. 

Aziraphale chuckled. 

“It’s nothing too exciting, but it does look wonderful,” he replied. “It almost looks better knowing that I had someone so special help me with it.” 

Crowley felt that little flutter in his heart, again. He stared straight ahead at the tree because he knew that if he looked at Aziraphale, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from kissing him. As much as Crowley wanted very much to do that, he knew deep down that that was maybe just a bit too fast. Plus, Aziraphale deserved a proper courting. 

Was that what he was doing, now? Courting him? Did Aziraphale even want that? How would they make it work? What would they even do? 

Before Crowley could start making a mental list of potential dates for them to go on while the snow was still piled up, Aziraphale clapped lightly and said something about the rest of the decorations. 

Not to worry - Crowley was very creative when he wanted to be, and Aziraphale in his soft jumper, glowing with the soft, golden light of the Christmas tree and Andy Williams’ lilting voice were all inspiring quite a bit of creativity. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley and aziraphale go tree shopping and meet a very interesting character

Crowley woke up the next morning and began furiously Googling places nearby that let you pick out your own real Christmas tree. He had spent the entire previous day helping Aziraphale decorate the bookshop, but he noted that the flat above the shop where Aziraphale stayed was surprisingly barren of holiday cheer. 

Crowley had been promoted from the couch in the back room to the couch in Aziraphale’s living room after their decorating marathon yesterday. It was an honor he did not take lightly. 

“Morning, dear!” Aziraphale called as he walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Crowley jumped and closed his laptop in a hurry before Aziraphale could see. “Working on your novel, I see.” 

“Mhm, yep, novel, working on it,” Crowley mumbled. “Say, angel, do you guys have any Christmas tree farms around here?” 

“Hm? Christmas tree farms?” Aziraphale turned to put the kettle on the stove. “What ever would you need one of those for?” 

“Well, I was sort of hoping I’d buy one for you, actually.” 

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Crowley. 

“What?” 

Crowley stood up and began stammering. He had meant to explain it a little more and ease into the idea, but, well, Aziraphale had asked and he couldn’t just lie to him. 

“It’s just-” Crowley gestured to the living room. “You don’t seem to have any decorations up here, but I know you like decorating because we spent hours doing it yesterday and you never once complained or suggested we stop. Not that I’m saying that  _ I _ wanted to stop - I didn’t, I loved it, had a great time in fact. But your own flat is sort of… lacking. In a holiday-y way. So, why not let me buy you a tree and we can decorate up here, too?” 

Crowley stopped himself from ranting any further, but decided to add, “I mean only- only if you want.” 

Aziraphale smiled softly at him and Crowley felt the tension physically leave his body. The tea kettle picked that moment to begin screaming, ruining whatever moment was happening. 

Aziraphale turned to take it off the burner before turning back to Crowley. 

“Alright, if you’re not sick of the holiday cheer after yesterday, I’m certainly not going to stop you from embracing it.” 

Crowley shot him a huge grin. 

“So do you know of any places we could get a tree?” Crowley sat back down as Aziraphale walked over with two mugs of tea. 

“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale handed Crowley his designated mug. (And wasn’t that something? Only two days together and Crowley was already fitting himself into Aziraphale’s life). “I do know a place. Although the owner is a bit… eccentric.” 

“Small town, bound to be full of eccentrics,” Crowley commented, blowing on his tea before taking a sip. “How bad can they be?” 

Aziraphale hummed and took a tentative sip from his mug. Crowley wasn’t sure what to make of his non-answer, but decided it wasn’t going to bring his good mood down. 

Later that afternoon, they headed out for Shadwell Farms. Aziraphale insisted Crowley use his coat, again, saying he had a few others that he could wear and what kind of person would he be if he let Crowley freeze to death in his care? 

Crowley was absolutely not about to fight him on that one, plus the coat still smelled of Aziraphale’s cologne and it made Crowley feel protected in a way that he was not going to examine any closer. 

Aziraphale insisted they walk, eyeing the roads which were still packed with snow. Crowley realized that it would probably be a while before the roads are fully cleared as he watched the rest of Tadfield go about their day on foot, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. The entire length of the town couldn’t be longer than three kilometers, tops. 

They chatted as they walked about little things, eventually falling into a comfortably friendly debate on what kind of wine would go best with sushi, when they arrived at their stop. They were in front of a small building, with a sign that read “Shadwell’s” in red letters across the top of the door. To the left of the building were rows and rows of small pine trees. 

“Now, I did warn you that Shadwell is a bit, er, eccentric,” Aziraphale started. “I just want to preface you meeting him in person by saying that he’s harmless. He’s just… old and a bit confused.” 

Crowley smirked at Aziraphale. Whatever this guy’s deal was, Crowley has probably seen worse. Being a queer journalist in London, he met all sorts of people from all walks of life. He doubted this Shadwell character would be able to make any sort of notable comments. 

“Okay, okay,” Crowley said, pushing Aziraphale toward the door. “Got it. Weird old man, might be homophobic from the way you’re twitching, probably will say something ridiculous. Let’s just get inside, I’m freezing.” 

They entered into the warm building and Crowley was immediately stunned to silence. The place was covered in plants. Of course there were the traditional flowers (poinsettias, amaryllis bulbs, red roses), but there were also buschles of winter jasmine, primrose, violets, and winter heath. The smell was a bit overwhelming, but Crowley barely noticed. 

He caught Aziraphale smiling at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“What?” Crowley asked, swiveling his head toward Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale blushed at being caught. 

“Nothing,” he walked toward the desk and rang the little bell. “Shadwell, are you here? It’s Aziraphale.” 

There was a bang from the little room behind the counter and a few grumbles came out. A few seconds later, a short, old man with wavy grey hair that was peeking out from under a hunter's cap came out to greet them. 

“Aye, mornin’ laddie,” the man said. 

“It’s, er, 3 p.m., Mr. Shadwell,” Aziraphale said, checking his watch. 

“Aye.” 

There was a beat of silence. 

“Right, well, this is my friend, Crowley,” Aziraphale gestured for Crowley to come over, so he did. Shadwell eyed him up and down twice and grunted. “And he- well,  _ we _ were looking to get a tree.” 

Shadwell looked back and forth between the two of them a few of times. 

“Follow me, then.” 

Shadwell waddled out from behind the counter to the front door. Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a look before they followed after him. He walked them up to the rows of pine trees that Crowley had spotted earlier and gave them the rundown.    
  
“Each tree is different in size an’ shape, but the prices are based on weight,” Shadwell slapped the a sign that had the prices listed. “S’about £3 per pound. We have rope in the store for you to tie it to yer car.” 

“Oh that won’t be necessary, we walked here.” 

Shadwell turned to look at Aziraphale. 

“You walked ‘ere? You sure you and Skinamalinky Long Legs can handle tha’?” 

Crowley wanted to be offended at what he was sure was a slight at his ability to carry something as small as a Christmas tree, but he was too busy trying desperately not to burst out laughing at ‘Skinamalinky Long Legs,’ which was arguably the funniest thing he has ever been called. 

“I’m sure we’ll be quite fine,” Aziraphale huffed. “Coming, Crowley?” 

Crowley pulled himself together and walked over to Aziraphale. Shadwell gave them another glance before turning to head back to the building.    
  
“Let me know if you an’ yer boyfriend need any help, Mr. Fell,” Shadwell called before closing the door. 

Crowley felt his heart freeze in his throat. Oh, how he wished that was true - that he and Aziraphale were dating and in love and shopping for a Christmas tree to put up in their shared apartment. They’d spend the night decorating and giggling and drinking good wine. Aziraphale coughed pointedly and drew Crowley out of his fantasy. 

“Well then,” Aziraphale was bright red. “Shall we?” 

Crowley looped their arms together. 

“Lead the way, angel.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley and aziraphale make cookies! or, well.... AZIRAPHALE makes cookies and crowley makes a fool of himself

Crowley huffed loudly. No one told him how heavy Christmas trees were. He was electing to ignore Shadwell’s comment about Crowley’s lanky form. 

Aziraphale, on the other hand, seemed to be having no trouble at all. He was carrying the stump end and seemed to barely be exerting any energy. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Aziraphale called to Crowley. The wind was making a mighty effort to knock them down. 

“I’m fine!” Crowley replied, struggling to keep his voice steady as the weight of the tree took its toll. 

They finally reached the bookshop and were able to take a small break catching their breath in the foyer before dragging the tree up the stairs to Aziraphale’s flat. Crowley tried to cooly play his labored breathing off like this wasn’t the most exercise he had gotten all year. 

Aziraphale noticed anyways. 

“Crowley, are you sure you’re okay?” Aziraphale asked as they set the tree upwards in the living room. “You look a bit piqued.” 

“I’m okay, angel, I promise,” Crowley flopped down onto the couch. “Just give me a minute before we start decorating.” 

Crowley had stopped into a local department store earlier in the day to pick up all sorts of Christmas decorations for the tree and the rest of the flat. He had even picked out a beautiful angel tree topper that reminded him of Aziraphale, with its blond curls and sparkling blue eyes. 

Aziraphale began puttering around the kitchen, probably starting up the kettle, when Crowley felt his eyes begin to slip closed. He fought against them the first two times before eventually letting sleep overcome him, the soft sounds of Aziraphale in the moving around pots and pans lulling him deeper and deeper. 

When he woke, it was dark outside. There was a small fire in the hearth and Christmas music playing quietly from somewhere behind him. Aziraphale was humming along. 

“Whuzzit-?” Crowley started, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Angel?” 

“In the kitchen!”

Crowley stood up and immediately stopped in his tracks. Aziraphale was wearing an apron, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he was pressing down onto what looked like dough. He had a bit of flour on his nose and his cheeks were rosy. He was gorgeous. 

“Good morning,” he greeted Crowley as he walked into the kitchen. “Glad to see you’re awake.” 

“Why did you let me sleep? We were going to decorate,” Crowley moved to stand next to Aziraphale and began inspecting the items on the counter. “You should've woken me up.” 

Aziraphale gave him a crooked grin. 

“Oh but you looked so adorable sleeping, I simply couldn’t disturb you.” 

Crowley’s brain short-circuited at “adorable,” and he wasn’t sure that it would be rebooting in time for a well-timed and equally flirty comeback. 

“Mmph.” 

Aziraphale just smiled at him and turned back to the dough while Crowley mentally berated himself. Here he was, staying with an absolute angel of a man, and all he had to do was smile and Crowley would be left speechless for the next 20 seconds. When had he become so soft? 

“What’re you making?” Crowley asked, shaking off his flub. “Smells good.”    
  
Aziraphale turned to him with a bright smile and clapped.    
  
“Oh, it’s my favorite Christmas cookie recipe,” he gestured to a cookbook opened before him. “My mother used to make these every year as a special treat and I thought maybe I could make some before you woke up. But since you’re here now, would you like to help me?” 

Crowley was good at cooking, but baking seemed to elude him. He could make his own pasta but he couldn’t even cook rolls from a can without at least one of them coming out black and burnt bitter. No amount of binging The Great British Bake-Off could aid him. 

“I can, but I’m not sure you  _ want _ my help-” 

“Nonsense. Here, stir this,” Aziraphale handed him a bowl with some sort of glaze mix in it. Crowley began stirring. “I’ve already put a batch in, let’s see how they turned out. If they’re done, you can glaze them.” 

Crowley nodded. How hard could that be? At least he wasn’t putting Crowley anywhere near the oven. 

Aziraphale opened the oven and inhaled. Grinning ear to ear, he pulled a tray of green and red cookies out of the oven, and set them in front of Crowley. They smelled amazing. 

“Now, before we glaze them, we should move them over to the cooling rack,” Aziraphale gestured to a little metal tray with a wired rack on it. “Be careful, though, they’re obviously very hot.” 

“Obviously,” Crowley echoed before putting his hand directly onto the pan in an effort to scoop up multiple cookies at once. 

He yelped and clutched the hand to his chest, tears pricking at his eyes as he crouched onto the floor in pain. Aziraphale rushed over and put his hands on Crowley’s back, urging him up. 

“Oh no, oh dear, come to the sink,” Aziraphale muttered as he practically picked Crowley up and ushered him to the faucet. “Let me run cool water over it.” 

Crowley stood with his hand under the water and tried to sneakily wipe away the few tears that escaped with his free hand. They stood in silence for a few seconds before Crowley noticed that Aziraphale was shaking slightly. 

“Angel?” Crowley asked, putting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“I’m fine, dear.” 

He was…  _ giggling. _ Aziraphale was giggling at him. 

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Crowley said, in a fake hurt tone. “Aziraphale, I’m wounded.” 

Aziraphale laughed wholeheartedly now and Crowley could swear the sound was like a heavenly chorus. Crowley tried to keep his own smile off of his face, but failed miserably when Aziraphale snorted.

“I’m sorry, Crowley, truly I am - but I did  _ literally _ just tell you the pan was hot.” 

“No, you said the cookies were hot. Nothing about the pan.” 

Aziraphale began laughing harder and swatted Crowley’s arm. Crowley joined him now, laughing until tears poured down his face. When their laughter petered out, Crowley looked down and noticed that Aziraphale hadn’t let go of the hand that he burnt. 

He itched to intertwine their fingers, but feared Aziraphale noticing their not-quite hand holding and pulling away. 

Crowley was just reflecting on how soft Aziraphale’s palm was when he looked up and saw Aziraphale staring at their hands as well, a gentle smile on his face. 

Ah, fuck it. 

Crowley shifted his hand and intertwined their fingers and squeezed. There was a beat where he feared that he had over-stepped, that this was unwelcome, but Aziraphale eventually squeezed back and looked down shyly. His ears were bright read. 

“Let’s, er, let’s get you some cream to put on that, hm?” Aziraphale tugged him toward the bathroom where he covered the spot in aloe and wrapped a bandage around it. 

Later, when they were sitting on the couch, eating the cookies and watching one of those cheesy Christmas romance movies, Crowley felt Aziraphale shift next to him and saw his hand laying palm up between them. 

Crowley smiled and took the hand, not letting go for the entire movie. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our two idiots grow closer and spread some holiday cheer (against ONE of their wills)

A few days went by and Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t talk about the hand holding. They did it a few more times when they were eating at the diner or when they were watching something on the telly or, and this was Crowley’s favorite, when they were sitting side by side on the couch - Aziraphale reading and Crowley dozing softly. 

It was the end of the week now, and just as the snow had started to melt, allowing Crowley to leave for his rental, another storm hit. 

“Oh my,” Aziraphale said, looking out the window at the white onslaught. “I’m so sorry, dear, I don’t know when you’ll be able to make it to your cabin.” 

Crowley shrugged from his spot on the couch, where he was typing furiously. He had been in a bit of a writing rut the last few days, what with his head filled only with one particular angel, but now that inspiration struck he was not letting it go to waste. 

“S’okay. I’m mostly sorry for  _ you _ ,” Crowley replied, not seeing how Aziraphale turned to him with a curious look. “Now you’re stuck with me.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him and tutted. 

“Don’t say that, you’re an absolute delight and welcome here as long as you want.” 

He had said it so warmly, that Crowley had to look up at him to see if he was joking. Instead, he was met with an expression Crowley could only describe as “fond.” And wasn’t that funny, how close they had become in such a short period of time? 

“I wouldn’t want to impose…” 

“Nonsense. You’ve been great company,” Aziraphale sat down next to him and patted his leg, leaving his hand there. “I tend to be quite alone for the holidays, so it’s been wonderful having someone around.” 

Crowley’s heart sank a bit in his chest. Aziraphale was so caring and nice and funny and interesting that it had to be a fluke that he spends the holiday’s by himself. 

“Well, you’ve already unlocked my tragic family backstory, what about yours?” Crowley put his hand over the one Aziraphale had resting on his leg. Aziraphale flipped his hand and their fingers intertwined like it was natural. “Unless you don’t want to say, in which case, I totally respect that and completely understa-” 

“My family, they’re, uh,” Aziraphale interrupted. “They’re very religious.” 

“Ah.”

“And, well, I’m…  _ gay _ , so… you can imagine that doesn’t mix well.” 

They were quiet for a few moments. Crowley was rubbing Aziraphale’s knuckles with his thumb. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I can attest that they’re missing out.” 

Aziraphale turned to Crowley and smiled. They stared at each other and Aziraphale glanced down at Crowley’s lips. Just like he had that first night they met. Right as Crowley was fairly certain they were both leaning in, two orbiting planets about to crash, a loud knock came from downstairs. 

“I’ll get that,” Aziraphale said, pulling away slowly to see who it was. “Just a mo’.” 

Crowley sighed and leaned his head against the back of the couch before getting up to follow Aziraphale down to the bookshop. Whoever it was, they bloody well better be dying or in desperate need of help. 

Aziraphale swung the door open and squealed with delight as he was met with a group of carollers singing “O Christmas Tree” loudly and a bit out of tune. The group consisted of Newt from the diner, a girl Crowley hadn’t met with long brown hair and glasses, and about four 11-year olds. 

“Oh, isn’t this darling?” Aziraphale said, clapping a little off beat to the song. “Crowley, come here!” 

Crowley groaned and walked over to Aziraphale’s side. They listened all the way until the song finished, Aziraphale giving the bunch a round of applause and Crowley clapping about three times. 

“Heya, Mr. Aziraphale - Happy Christmas!” the blond kid in the front said. “Who’s your friend?” 

Aziraphale smiled and turned to Crowley. 

“Adam, this is my friend Crowley,” Crowley waved sheepishly. “He’s staying with me while we wait for the storm to blow over.” 

The boy, Adam, and his friends eyed Crowley up. They stared for a few moments, Crowley shifting uncomfortably in place. He liked kids, but sometimes they could lack a bit of tact. 

“Why are you wearing sunglasses?” a dirty looking boy in the middle asked. 

“Why do you have a tattoo of a worm on your face?” a little girl with wild curls asked. 

“Actually, I think that’s a snake,” the final little boy said, pushing his glasses up. 

“Okay, kids, that’s enough questions, don’t we think?” the woman with brown hair said in an American accent, putting out her hand. “Hi, I’m Anathema Device. Newt, here, tells me you’ve been stopping in my diner all week. Sorry we haven’t had the chance to meet yet. Just got back from seeing family for Thanksgiving.” 

Crowley took the hand and noted how firm her handshake was. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Crowley said. Aziraphale was beaming at them. 

Adam, upon noticing Aziraphale’s expression, chose then to ask: “Are you Mr. Aziraphale’s boyfriend?” 

Crowley immediately felt his face heat up. Aziraphale made a series of noises and vague gestures. 

“No, no, he’s just… a friend,” Aziraphale explained. “Say, do you guys want us to join you?” 

Crowley shot a look at Aziraphale. 

“An- Aziraphale, we wouldn’t want to  _ impose _ -” 

“Oh, it’s not a problem. We could always use more voices. More people equals more holiday cheer, I say,” Newt replied. “Plus, we have more sheet music, if you want.” 

Aziraphale smiled at Newt and grabbed his coat and scarf from the hook by the door. He looked at Crowley and pouted until he finally gave in and grabbed his (borrowed) coat and scarf as well. 

“Oh, this will be so splendid,” Aziraphale started, as he locked up the shop. “I haven’t gone caroling since I was a boy.” 

The group began walking down the street toward the next row of houses. Aziraphale was chatting animatedly with Anathema and Crowley was trying to see how far he could burrow himself into the collar of his coat. A shiver ran up his spine and he sighed. He should’ve brought his gloves. 

Before he could shove his hands into his pockets, Aziraphale reached out and grabbed one. Crowley looked up, but he was still talking to Anathema about the latest book of prophecy he had purchased, pointedly not looking back at Crowley. And if his cheeks were a little bit pinker, it didn’t seem like anyone else noticed. 

Crowley smiled to himself and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, which promptly squeezed back. His insides melted a little, and he was suddenly grateful that he hadn’t brought the gloves. Even if his free hand was still freezing. 

All in all, they spent about an hour walking the streets of Tadfield, singing carols to anyone who would listen (and to some who wouldn’t). Crowley got way more into it than he ever thought he would, and took his part in “The Twelve Days of Christmas” very seriously. 

The night was full of laughter and joy. Aziraphale was delighted to hear Crowley sing, the kids (called The Them, as Crowley found out) were having a blast, and Anathema was quick-witted and funny, bantering with Newt in a way only couples who have been together for a very long time did. 

Crowley felt his initial apprehension slip away and by the end of the night, he was filled with such a sense of wonder and awe that he had to assume this was the holiday cheer that everyone was always blathering on about. 

He went to bed with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest, a smile on his face, and a tingle throughout his hand, which had been dutifully held all night. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aziraphale and crowley enjoy a nice day while trying to ignore their ~feelings~

Before Crowley knew it, two weeks had passed. 

He had made considerable progress on his novel, but he still needed to work out the ending. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t projected onto his main protagonist just a bit. But wasn’t that half the fun of writing? Exploring yourself through a character and fleshing out all of their flaws and emotions and background? 

Crowley was in the middle of a sprint, typing furiously as the words just flowed out of him. Distantly, he heard Aziraphale pad up the stairs to the flat from the bookshop and enter the living room. He kept his eyes trained on the screen, not wanting to break this bout of inspiration. 

The floorboards creaked and a weight dropped down on the couch beside him. He put out his right hand palm up and Aziraphale took it immediately. They’d been doing a lot of this- this hand holding business. It was sweet and, as much as it reminded Crowley of being in primary school again, it made his heart flutter. 

He wasn’t sure if it was something they should talk about. Frankly, Crowley was afraid bringing any attention to the casual touches at all would make them stop, and that was the last thing he wanted. He and Aziraphale were certainly becoming closer every day. How could they not in such close quarters? 

Aziraphale began rubbing his thumb along Crowley’s knuckles and there weren’t any coherent thoughts he was having. Ah, well. At least he had finished the chapter. 

“Something’s on your mind,” Aziraphale said. “You have that  _ look _ on your face.” 

Crowley smiled and turned to him. 

“What look?” 

“Oh, you know the one.” 

Crowley continued staring at Aziraphale, grinning, before Aziraphale sighed and pulled a face. His brows pinched together and he looked deep in thought. 

“This face," Aziraphale said. 

Crowley laughed and brought Aziraphale’s hand up to his lips to brush a soft kiss across the back of his hand. 

“It’s nothing to worry about, angel,” Crowley said, trying to quiet his hammering heart. “Just trying to come up with an ending.” 

Aziraphale was flushed red as his eyes snapped up to look at Crowley. 

“You don’t… have an ending yet?” Aziraphale looked affronted. “My dear, I dare say that typically one does not begin writing unless they at the very least have the ending in mind.” 

Crowley closed the file, making sure to save three times, before shutting his laptop and putting it back into his bag. 

“What can I say? I like to live on the edge.” 

Aziraphale pursed his mouth. 

“Quite.” 

There was a moment of silence. Crowley was staring at their joined hands. 

“Any-who, I closed up shop early today and was wondering if you would accompany me to the park?” 

Crowley looked down at his watch and stifled a laugh. He knew Aziraphale kept odd hours at the bookshop (a perk of owning your own business, Crowley found, was that you could open and close as you please), but this was a tad bit ridiculous. 

“Aziraphale, you’ve only been open for an hour and a half.” 

“And I have seen barely any customers, so will you come with me?” 

He was making those eyes at Crowley, again, and they both knew that Crowley would say yes no matter how ridiculous the request. Although Crowley was initially reluctant to leave the warm, cozy spot he’d made on the couch, he supposed it would be good to get out and stretch his legs. The snow still hadn’t melted, but the sun did make a few appearances every few days - today being one of them. 

“Alright, alright,” Crowley stood up and walked over to grab his (for now it is most definitely  _ his _ ) coat from the rack and his hat, scarf, and gloves. “By the way, what did you want for dinner? I was thinking I could cook something for you. Partially as a thank you for continuing to let me stay here and partially because I cannot allow us to keep bothering Newt and Anathema at the diner.” 

Aziraphale beamed at him. 

“That would be lovely, dear.” 

Once Crowley sufficiently wrapped his scarf around his neck, he stuck his elbow out and Aziraphale looped their arms together as they walked out the door. 

The walk to the park wasn’t far. The pavement and roads have been mostly cleared of snow, but the ice patches were aplenty. Maneuvering the pavement was like walking in a minefield. Luckily, they made it without any major accidents, ignoring when Aziraphale almost slipped and took Crowley down with him if it weren’t for Crowley’s very quick reflexes, catching them both and stopping any damage. 

“So, any particular reason you wanted to get out today?” Crowley asked as they entered the park. He could see the Them building a snowman off to the side, unsupervised. 

“Hm? Oh, no, just thought we could use some fresh air.” 

Crowley thought that sounded somewhat suspicious, but he let it slide. What ulterior motives could Aziraphale even have? It was the middle of the day, in the middle of the town. 

They took a few more steps before Aziraphale released Crowley’s elbow and yelled, “Operation Hellhound, go!” and jogged off the path. 

Before Crowley could even process what Aziraphale had said, he found himself getting pelted with snowballs. A large chunk of soft snow had gotten itself wedged in his glasses, so he couldn’t see who his assailant was, but judging from the giggles he had a pretty good idea. 

“Adam!” Crowley yelled. “This is grossly unfair!” 

The snowballs abruptly stopped. Crowley took off his sunglasses and snapped his head up and spotted the Them paused, mid-throw. Once he cleaned off his glasses and tucked them into his pocket, he put his arms out. 

“Okay,  _ now  _ it is fair.” 

The assault immediately started back up, and this time Crowley bent down and got a few shots of his own in. He found Aziraphale, who had been supplying the kids with snowballs that he was dutifully rolling behind the snowman. 

As soon as the battle started to move closer to his base, Aziraphale attempted to retreat before bumping directly into Crowley. 

“Oi, where do you think you’re going, angel?” Crowley grinned wickedly, tossing a snowball up and down in his hand. 

“O-oh, I was just… you know… Oh, is that Anathema and Newt, I see?” Aziraphale pointed behind Crowley. 

“Nice try.” 

Crowley sprinted toward Aziraphale, who was, in turn, much faster than Crowley thought. They ran in a circle around the snowman, faking each other out a couple of times, before Crowley tossed the snowball at Aziraphale. Aziraphale’s forehead was now covered in a light smattering of snow, flakes covering the fluffy blond curls sticking out of his hat. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale winced and touched his forehead. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley’s face fell and he jogged over to him. “Are you okay?” 

As soon as Crowley got close, Aziraphale quickly grabbed his scarf and shoved a handful of snow down the front of his jacket. Crowley yelped and stepped back before tackling Aziraphale into a particularly large pile of snow. After wrestling around for a second, Crowley emerged victorious, straddling Aziraphale and holding a large pile of snow above his face. 

“I got you now, you little-” 

“Uh, guys?” Anathema’s voice came from behind them. 

Crowley looked up to see Anathema and Newt staring at them, smiling awkwardly, as the Them continued running around throwing snowballs at each other in the background. 

Crowley stared at them for a beat before looking down and realizing the, er, compromising position they had been found in. 

Crowley quickly scrambled off of Aziraphale and stood up, dusting his jacket. 

“Anathema, Newt, I had no idea you were here,” Crowley shot an apologetic look at Aziraphale, who was now standing beside him. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be at the diner?” 

“Took the day off, decided to enjoy the sun,” Anathema said, smiling at Crowley knowingly. “You know, I hear it might stay and melt away most of this snow.” 

“Oh, really?” Crowley tried not to sound too disappointed. The snow was what was keeping him here with Aziraphale and despite their quick friendship, he wasn’t sure how welcome he’d be once it melted. 

“We really should be going, dear, don’t want to stay out here all wet now do we?” Aziraphale smiled politely at the couple and began tugging Crowley back toward the bookshop. “Have a lovely day, you two!” 

“Same to you,” Anathema said, staring after them with a peculiar look before turning to Newt, leaning her head on his shoulder, and continuing their walk. 

“Operation Hellhound was a success, children,” Aziraphale said in a stage-whisper to the Them as they walked past. “Me and Crowley are going to be getting home now, though. Don’t stay out here for too long or you’ll catch your death.” 

Crowley felt his insides go fuzzy at the word “home.” He knew, rationally, that the bookshop was and is Aziraphale’s actual home. But something about it being both of them going back there together made him melt. 

They scurried off toward the shop, not stopping until they closed the door behind them. Their heavy breaths filled the air for a moment before they looked at each other and burst out into laughter. 

“Is  _ that _ why you wanted to go to the park?” Crowley shook his hair out and took off his coat.

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale replied, smiling to himself as he laid his gloves out on the heater. “Did you have fun?” 

Crowley tried to rub the warmth back into his cheeks. 

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “I’ve never actually had a real snowball fight before.” 

“Well, that would explain your lack of strategy, then.” 

Crowley threw his gloves at Aziraphale, who caught them and laid them next to his own on the heater. 

“You’re adorable.” Crowley had meant for that to come out a little more sarcastically, but the genuine fondness had crept a little too deeply into his tone. Aziraphale blushed and ducked his head. 

They were quiet for a moment before Crowley cleared his throat loudly. 

“Right, uh, let’s get upstairs so I can start dinner, hm?” Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to lead the way. “Trust me, Aziraphale, once you try my homemade garlic pasta, you’ll be begging me to stay.” 

Aziraphale mumbled something that sounded like “already there,” but it was too quiet for Crowley to be sure. 

“What was that?” Crowley asked. 

“Nothing! Let’s get to cooking. I’m beginning to feel quite peckish after all that  _ activity _ .” 

They began laughing again and Crowley savored the warmth of it. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> get ready for some soft shit!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you wanna listen to the song along with them, start this youtube video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5MP0i1BIoI at the phrase "Do you even know how to dance?”

Crowley watched as Aziraphale dabbed at his mouth delicately. 

The meal had been wonderful, the conversation flowed, and they were now polishing off their second bottle of wine. Aziraphale ate like he was deciphering each flavor, as if he could feel every note of parmesan or drop of creme dance across his tongue, and despite his full belly, Crowley found himself starving. 

“That was simply scrumptious, dear boy,” Aziraphale commented. “Where did you learn to cook like that?” 

Crowley smiled and lifted his head from where it had been leaning on his hand. 

“Youtube.” Crowley moved to pick up their dishes and take them to the sink. 

“Oh, let me clean up, please,” Aziraphale walked over a little crookedly to where Crowley was standing in the kitchen. “It’s the least I could do.” 

Crowley lifted the plates out of Aziraphale’s reach. 

“No, no, angel, the meal was a thank you,” Crowley fake-scolded. “If you pay me back for it, we’ll just be in an endless loop of doing favors for each other, won’t we?” 

Something in Aziraphale’s eye twinkled at that statement. Crowley gently pushed him away from the sink and told him to stay put or to find music to play. 

Crowley was scrubbing the dishes when he heard the crackle of a gramophone from the living room. Of course the angel had a record player. A stereo was probably far too modern for him, let alone any sort of AUX cord. 

The music lilted gently through the room and Crowley immediately recognized the opening to  _ “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes.” _

“Aziraphale?” 

“Hm?” 

“Is this… have you put on the Cinderella soundtrack, by any chance?” Crowley wouldn’t admit it to many people, but he had a soft spot for old Disney classics. 

“It is! I can change it if you-” 

“No, you can leave it on. Was just wondering.” 

Crowley hummed along as he finished up the dishes. Aziraphale had taken the wine glasses with him into the kitchen, signaling to Crowley that they were to continue drinking. He dried off his hands and checked his reflection in the window to see if his hair was still in place. It had been through a lot that day. 

After a bit of artful ruffling, Crowley deemed himself presentable, and grabbed another bottle of wine before heading into the living room. Aziraphale was sitting on the couch, smiling into his glass as trumpets filled the room. 

“Didn’t take you for a fan,” Crowley commented as he sat down next to Aziraphale. The living room felt unbelievably cozy - there was a fire in the hearth, the whole place smelled like pasta and food and the Christmas cookie-scented candle Aziraphale insisted on burning, and there was a soft yellow glow from the lights and tree covering the room. 

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale said, tipping his glass in Crowley’s direction for a refill. “And yes, I quite enjoyed this movie as a child. I didn’t have the best family growing up, as I told you, so imagining being able to escape them and find the love of my life at a ball, well- doesn’t that just sound grand?” 

Aziraphale had that wistful smile on, again. The same one from when they were decorating and he found the ornament of him and his siblings. Crowley imagined a little Aziraphale watching Cinderella with great intent, hoping for a better life away from his judgemental and emotionally abusive family. 

“Do you even know how to dance?” Crowley nudged his side. “Dancing is required for a ball, after all.” 

If Crowley wasn’t mistaken, the song currently playing was when Cinderella and Prince Charming shared their first dance. Crowley was far from Prince Charming, but he could pass for Duke Endearing. 

“Well, I’m afraid no one has ever asked me to. So, I’m not sure.” 

Well that just wouldn’t do and Crowley was feeling bold thanks to the wine. He stood up, a little wobbly, and put his hand out for Aziraphale. Aziraphale looked at it. 

“Dance with me now, then.” 

Crowley tried not to let his heart ooze out of his chest when Aziraphale beamed at him and took his hand. They positioned themselves, with Crowley’s free hand on Aziraphale’s waist and Aziraphale’s free hand on Crowley’s shoulder, and began stepping in small circles, careful not to tramp on the other’s foot. 

“Just relax, Aziraphale. Trust me.” Crowley started moving them in bigger circles. 

It was far from smooth, but they eventually got the hang of it. Crowley even spun Aziraphale around a few times, which elicited a few giggles from Aziraphale. They were twirling around the living room when the song began to slow. 

_ Mmmm mm mm mmmm  _

_ So this is love _

Oh no. Crowley felt himself begin to blush. He was ready to bolt on short notice, but Aziraphale didn’t show any signs of being uncomfortable. 

_ So this is what makes life diviiiine _

He looked up at Crowley tenderly, and Crowley suddenly felt very naked. He hadn’t put his sunglasses back on after the snowball fight earlier today. 

_ I’m all aglow  _

_ And now I know  _

Aziraphale pulled on Crowley’s shoulder ever so slightly, and they were now chest to chest, moving in much smaller circles than they just had been. Aziraphale leaned his head on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s cold nose on his neck, but he suddenly felt very, very warm. 

_ My heart has wings  _

_ And I can flyyyy  _

Crowley moved his hand so that it was more snug around Aziraphale’s middle and they brought their joined hands to rest on Crowley’s chest. Crowley turned his nose to nuzzle at Aziraphale’s curls. He felt like he was floating. 

_ So this is the miracle that I’ve been dreaming of _

Crowley swallowed loudly. He was certain that Aziraphale could feel the hammer of his heart from where his head lay on Crowley’s chest. Then, Aziraphale lifted his head to look at Crowley. And for the hundredth time, Crowley wanted to kiss him. 

_ So this iiiiis looooooove _

They stared at each other for a moment, Aziraphale looked like he was deciding something and Crowley searched his eyes for the decision. 

Then the clock struck midnight. 

Not literally - it was only about 7 p.m. 

The record, unaware of the moment that was happening between the two people still holding each other in a living room in Tadfield, England, had begun playing the next song in which the Fairy Godmother’s spell wears off and Cinderella must leave the ball. 

Aziraphale smiled that wistful smile and stepped away from Crowley, who felt cold with the sudden loss. 

“My we- we certainly have had a lot to drink, haven’t we?” Aziraphale noted. “Perhaps, we should slow down, hm?” 

Crowley had the distinct feeling like Aziraphale wasn’t talking about the wine. But what  _ was _ he talking about, then? Them? Do they need to slow down? Logically, Crowley knew that they had only known each other for two weeks, but it felt like he had known Aziraphale his entire life and he was just waiting here in this little town for Crowley to find him.

But the last thing he wanted was for Aziraphale to feel like he was being pressured. 

So, Crowley smiled at him and suggested corking the wine for another night. Aziraphale grinned softly back at him and agreed. 

“What about a movie before bed, angel?” Crowley asked, not quite ready to be rid of Aziraphale yet. “A nice Christmas movie. Like Die Hard.” 

Aziraphale scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“Die Hard is  _ not _ a Christmas movie.” 

“S’ happening at Christmas, isn’t it?” 

“Crowley! I know you’re just saying this to get a rise out of me and it won’t work.” 

“Seems like it already is.” Crowley laughed and walked over to the TV to fetch the remotes. “Look, I’ll concede - we can watch The Grinch, hm? That Christmas-y enough for ya?” 

Aziraphale sighed and nodded. Crowley plopped onto the couch and put his arm along the back. Aziraphale sat closer than usual and practically snuggled into Crowley, leaning back against the couch and tucking his legs underneath him. Crowley took a chance and lowered his hand to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder, which only prompted him to snuggle in further. 

Whatever it was Aziraphale had decided back there, Crowley hoped beyond hope that it was to give him a chance. Because Crowley would move at a snail's pace if it meant even just that - even just a  _ chance  _ to be with Aziraphale. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aziraphale has a visit with a certain meddling witch

“I’ll be back in about an hour!” Aziraphale called back to Crowley, who was perched on the couch typing. 

“Be safe, angel,” Crowley replied, not looking up from his laptop. 

Aziraphale smiled softly at that, trying and failing to ignore the little butterflies that began to flutter in his stomach, and closed the door to the flat. 

Realistically, he should be wary of leaving a stranger in his flat alone. But Crowley had been staying with him for a little over two weeks, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but trust him. Plus, he was often left alone up there when Aziraphale opened up the shop. 

The air was crisp and the sun was shining. According to the weather channel, the temperature would start to rise slightly and it would be sunny for the next few days. Aziraphale fretted a bit at that, realizing that the only thing keeping Crowley with him was the snow and then fretted further because he can’t believe how attached he’s grown in just a couple of weeks. 

The bell above the diner rang, alerting Anathema to his presence. She took off her apron and patted Newt on the shoulder, presumably telling him that she’d be going taking a break. 

Aziraphale took off his scarf and coat and slid into his usual corner booth, Anathema sliding in across from him. 

“So…” 

Aziraphale didn’t like the sound of that. Anathema was a good friend, she was sweet and kind and funny and very, very smart. Her and Aziraphale had become quick friends as soon as she moved here and opened the diner. And she was extremely intuitive. Annoyingly so, one might say. 

“How’s Crowley?” she asked after Aziraphale just stared politely at her.

“He’s fine.” 

“Yes, I’m sure anyone with eyes can tell that he _is_ fine.” 

“Ha ha, very funny,” Aziraphale smiled at Newt, who had brought him over a cup of tea. “Really, dear girl, he’s a perfectly cordial guest.” 

“A perfectly cordial guest who is hot, funny, about your age, intelligent, gives you the biggest heart-eyes I’ve ever seen, has a _pet name_ for you,” Anathema leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “I know you like him, Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale sighed. He knew Anathema meant well, but he was already struggling with his inner turmoil about his feelings for Crowley, he didn’t need Anathema to join in on the argument. He liked Crowley, yes, and what they had going was good. What it was they exactly had going was a different story - but the point was, they were friends and Aziraphale finally had a companion that he not only tolerated but actually liked being around. 

“Can we please not do this?” 

“I’m not hearing a denial,” Anathema crooned. “Why don’t you do something about it?” 

“Because we just met and he lives in the city and once the holidays are over, he won’t be coming back here ever again,” Aziraphale groaned. “I don’t even know if he likes me.” 

“Aziraphale, while the rest of that may be true, you have to know he likes you, right?” Anathema slapped her hand onto the table. “Please tell me you know that.” 

Aziraphale ducked his head and blushed. 

“Even so, that doesn’t make the rest of my statement go away,” he blew on his tea and took a sip. “It would never work. He could have anyone in the entire city of London, why would he settle for a frumpy bookshop owner who lives an hour and a half away on a good day?” 

Anathema sighed loudly and crossed her arms. She looked angrily at Aziraphale while he finished his tea before a big grin spread across her face. 

“What if I do a reading for y-” 

“No.” 

Anathema put her hands up in frustration.

“Come on, Aziraphale, please?” Anathema pouted. “Just a simple three-card reading. Maybe it’ll help you see this Crowley situation in a different light.” 

Aziraphale was about to disagree, but he couldn’t see the harm in it. Anathema had been trying to do a tarot reading for him for ages, she was apparently quite good at them, but he had turned her down every time. Maybe now was the time to say ‘yes.’

“Okay.” 

Anathema gasped and shot up from the booth, coming back a few moments later with a deck of cards in hand. The cards had beautiful, intricate floral designs on the back, bursting with reds and oranges and purples. There was a single eye floating in the center of all of them. 

“Alright, so we’ll do a three-card reading,” she began shuffling the cards. “Basically, I’ll put down three cards, the one on the left represents your past, the one in the middle represents your present, and the one on the right represents your future. Got it?” 

That seemed easy enough. Aziraphale nodded and hoped that he hadn’t made a mistake by agreeing to this. She asked him to cut the deck, so he gingerly took the cards from her, split them, and then put them back together before sliding them back to her. 

Anathema put the first card down, the one representing his past, and flipped it over. The card had three swords plunging through a deep red heart. Behind the heart, it was raining. The card didn’t give Aziraphale a good feeling. 

“Alright, for your past we got the Three of Swords,” Anathema touched the card gently. “This card represents heartbreak, sorrow, grief, and rejection.” 

Aziraphale winced. He couldn’t help but immediately think of his family and their rejection of him and his “lifestyle,” of who he loves, of who he is. He spent years filled with the grief of losing the only family he’s ever had, praying that he could change himself, that he could be who they wanted him to be. It didn’t work. In the end, Aziraphale was glad for that. It made him stronger. 

Anathema studied Aziraphale’s reaction. He took a deep breath and nodded. 

“This next card represents your present.” 

She flipped over another card, this one revealed two wolves howling at the moon. The moon looked as if it was scowling at the wolves, who were separated by a stream of some sort. 

“The Moon card,” Anathema said. “This card represents illusion and deception, but not necessarily as in an outsider is deceiving you, it’s more like you’re deceiving yourself - meaning there is a misunderstanding that you may be experiencing on your part, or a truth you cannot admit to yourself.” 

Aziraphale shot Anathema a look. 

“Did you mess with these before the reading?” Aziraphale asked, suspiciously. 

“Aziraphale, you watched me shuffle them!” Anathema exclaimed. “And, even if I did mess with them, which I would never, you cut the deck yourself.” 

Aziraphale grumbled his assent. A truth he couldn’t admit to himself, eh? The truth was, well- the truth was that Aziraphale liked Crowley an awful lot. He felt comforted by his presence and felt lighter when he was around. He liked eating with him, laughing with him, watching movies with him, and even just sitting in comfortable silence with him, Aziraphale reading and him messing around on his phone. 

He liked Crowley so much it scared him. 

“Alright, alright, let’s move on.” 

Anathema flipped over the final card - the one representing the future. Aziraphale looked at her the whole time and only looked down when she looked up for his reaction. Her face was alight and she appeared to be attempting to hold back a large grin. 

Aziraphale glanced at the card. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said. 

Facing up in the final slot was The Lovers card. Anathema stopped trying to hide her grin and let it shine through in full force. 

“The card representing your future, Aziraphale Fell, is The Lovers,” she tapped the card. “This card represents not only relationships, but the choices that come with that relationship. It indicates that there will be a temptation and a decision. In the context of this particular reading, it means that you will have to give something up, perhaps a bachelor or sedentary lifestyle, in order to gain a happy and healthy relationship.” 

Aziraphale put his face in his hands and groaned. 

“Wow, you got two Major Arcana cards in a three-card reading,” Anathema said with wide eyes. “That’s pretty lucky.” 

“Luck, hm?” Aziraphale peered up at her through his hands. “Anathema, you don’t really expect me to believe-” 

“You don’t have to believe,” Anathema interrupted him. “Tarot cards aren’t about telling the future. The cards are simply a way to utilize your own intuition. You can take them however you want, they’re up to your interpretation. And if you want to interpret them as saying that while yes, you’re currently mentally beating yourself up about Crowley, if you push through your insecurities, you might be able to find happiness and love, then that’s up to you.” 

Anathema plucked the cards up from their spot on the table as Aziraphale gaped at her. 

“You make it sound so easy…” 

“And would you look at that? My break’s over,” Anathema got up and dusted off her skirt.

“Is there a time limit? You _own_ the restaurant.” 

“Well, best be off, then,” Anathema continued, ignoring him. “Wouldn’t want to keep your man waiting.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and gathered his things. He thanked Newt again for the tea and in turn, Newt shot him an apologetic look. He gave a final wave to the couple and turned for the door, chiding himself for the sudden rush of excitement at getting back to see Crowley again. 

Maybe Anathema was right. Maybe he should trust his gut. 

The payoff might just be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell that i'm super interested in tarot?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys write letters to santa and, as the snow starts to melt, crowley asks aziraphale a very important question

“You know, maybe Christmas isn’t so bad after all,” Crowley said, apropos of nothing a few days later. 

His head was currently laying in Aziraphale’s lap, his hair being played with by Aziraphale’s free-hand. Aziraphale’s other hand was holding “A Christmas Carol,” which he had been reading out loud a moment ago. The fire was crackling, the living room was aglow with the fairy lights from the tree, their bellies were full from dinner and a dessert of hot cocoa and cookies, and Crowley was practically purring under Aziraphale’s touch. 

“Ah, so Mr. Scrooge is coming around, I take it?” Aziraphale asked, playfully. 

“I’m just saying that… I get it, now,” Crowley fidgeted until he was completely face-up, looking right into Aziraphale’s eyes. “I’m feeling the holiday cheer, as they say. I might even write a letter to the big jolly man himself.” 

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea! We should do that.” 

Crowley sat up and looked at Aziraphale. 

“Angel, Santa isn’t real,” he cocked his head to the side. “You- you do know that, right?” 

Aziraphale laughed. It was a bright, sparkling sound. Crowley could listen to it for days or years, even, and never tire of it. 

“Yes, dear, of course I do,” Aziraphale put his hand down on top of Crowley’s on the cushion between them. “But wouldn’t it be a little fun? To write a letter to Santa like when you were a kid?” 

Crowley pondered this for a moment. It did sound kind of fun. Especially now that the crippling disappointment of not receiving whatever ridiculous and expensive gift he had asked for in said letter wasn’t a factor. 

“Okay, yeah,” Crowley smiled at him. “That could be fun.” 

“Perfect, I have just the stationary for such a thing,” Aziraphale closed his book and stood up. 

“Of course you do.” 

Aziraphale shot Crowley a glare that was far too fond to have the desired effect, and whisked out the door to his office in the bookshop below. Crowley smiled after him for a second before getting up to collect their empty mugs and put them in the sink. 

He looked out the kitchen window and frowned. The sun was setting, casting beautiful orange and pink hues across the sky, which were reflecting in the falling drops of melting snow. The sun had been out in full force this week, and while the temperatures were still low, much of the larger piles of snow had melted away. 

Crowley wasn’t sure how long he would be welcomed at the bookshop now that he could arguably get to the cabin without problem. As much as he didn’t want to leave, he also didn’t want Aziraphale to feel like he had to let him stay. Then an idea struck him. It would be a little risky and maybe a little too fast for Aziraphale, but he had nothing to lose. If Aziraphale didn’t like it, Crowley could leave and celebrate Christmas alone at the cabin, but if he did… well… 

“Okay, I grabbed a few sheets in case you mess up and want to start over and I got the good pens from my recent bookshop order, so that we can- Are you alright?” Aziraphale said, walking over to Crowley, who was still standing at the sink. 

Crowley smiled at him. 

“Yeah, yeah now let’s see this fancy paper of yours.” 

They spent the next 30 minutes writing their letters. Crowley kept trying to get a sneak peek at Aziraphale’s, but he kept pulling it away and smacking Crowley lightly on the arm. 

“You absolute foul fiend, you can’t look!” 

“Why not?” Crowley asked, scooching his chair closer. “Not asking for anything naughty, are you?” 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale turned bright red. “Because if you look, I won’t get it.” 

“It’s not a wish, angel, it’s a present.” 

“Still, best to not risk it.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes but finally gave up. He finished his letter, signed it, and sealed it into the red envelopes that Aziraphale had brought up with the paper. 

“So, what now?” Crowley asked, holding his envelope up. 

“Hm?” 

“What do we do with the letters now? We can’t exactly send them.” 

Aziraphale stroked his cheek in thought for a moment. Crowley watched the movement carefully, imagining himself kissing that cheek. And the other one. Kissing Aziraphale’s entire blessed face, really. He was far beyond the point of return and didn’t even bother stopping himself from such ridiculous daydreams anymore. 

He wondered often just how soft Aziraphale would be under his lips. He wished he had the capacity to be embarrassed over getting all worked up at the thought of kissing someone on the cheek, but again, he was far too gone for that. Instead, he let it wash over him.    
  
“We could keep them and open each other’s on Christmas Day,” Aziraphale replied. His smile quickly faltered. “I- I mean, that is to say, well, if you’re, uh, still here and haven’t… hm… oh dear.” 

Crowley decided that now was a great time to swoop in and both save Aziraphale from the stuttering mess he was becoming and execute the first step to his plan. 

“About that,” Crowley started. “So, the snow is pretty melted, wouldn’t you say?” 

Aziraphale deflated 

“Yes, the sun has been out for quite a few days now.” 

“Well, I do still have another week at the cabin and I was wondering…” 

Aziraphale looked up at him. He was giving him a puzzled sort of look with a hint of hope, if Crowley wasn’t mistaken. 

“Yes?” Aziraphale breathed. 

“DoyouwanttocomestaytherewithmeforChristmas?” Crowley said very quickly. He put a finger up to stop Aziraphale from replying. “You don’t have to say ‘yes.’ I know we spent all this time decorating your flat and the bookshop and, God, we just met a little over three weeks ago. But I really would love to spend more time with you and we can take up a bunch of food and cook a real, traditional Christmas dinner and you can bake more cookies and yell at me when I try to eat the batter and we can watch those cute little claymation holiday movies you said you like and we can-” 

Crowley was cut off by Aziraphale putting a finger to his lips. 

“Angel?” 

Aziraphale smiled up at him and pulled his finger away, moving his hand so it was cupping Crowley’s face. 

“My dear, that sounds lovely.” 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aziraphale packs for their christmas getaway and crowley has a phone call

Aziraphale’s heart was beating very fast. He was certain the entire town of Tadfield could hear its erratic rhythm. He splashed some water from his bathroom sink onto his face. Crowley had asked him if he wanted to spend the holiday together and Aziraphale’s heart soared. 

And so he was nervous and excited and a little bit hesitant. 

He was pretty sure they weren’t dating, although sometimes it did feel like that. They had become more tactile over the last few weeks - whether it was holding hands while watching TV or Crowley laying his head in Aziraphale’s lap like a very needy cat or soft touches to a shoulder, a lower back, an elbow. 

It was all going a bit fast. And normally, this would bother Aziraphale. Normally. But this wasn’t normal, Crowley wasn’t normal, or - well, he didn’t  _ feel _ normal. It felt like they had already been friends for millennia and that this was just another meet up of many they’ve had. 

Aziraphale was trying so hard to tread lightly, to not get his heart broken. Even now, in the afterglow of the joy over Crowley’s invitation, Aziraphale was reminding himself sternly that Crowley still lived in London and, from what the man has said about his job, is quite busy.

If they were to somehow make the (arguably) short distance work, they would still be faced with the reality that Crowley is a journalist at the top of his game, and seeing each other would be damn near impossible. 

Aziraphale shook himself out of his thoughts. He had been in the bathroom for far too long and he needed to start packing some things for their jaunt up to the cabin. 

He flicked the light off and stepped into the hallway. Before he could turn to his room, he heard soft mumbling coming from the living room. He poked his head around the corner and saw that Crowley was on the phone and was apparently trying his very best to be quiet. 

Curiosity piqued, Aziraphale listened. 

“Yes, yes, the holiday is going well, Beez, I promise,” Crowley said. He sounded annoyed but fond. “I’ve even gotten pretty far in the novel.” 

There was a pause as he waited for the other person to respond. 

“No, I won’t be alone, actually. I- well, I sort of met… someone.” 

The voice coming from the other end was louder now. 

“Well, yes, I mean- no, no not like that. Trust me, I wish. He’s… nice. And okay, yeah, adorable. No, more than that, he’s a literally angel. In every way, Beez. He’s the one who took me in after the snow storm I told you about.” 

Aziraphale, who had finally calmed his heart down, felt a blush bloom over his cheeks and spread down his neck. There was no mistaking who Crowley was referring to just now. He thought Aziraphale was adorable? 

“Yeah we’re going up to the cabin I rented out in a little bit, since the snow finally melted enough... Ugh, don’t be crass. He’s so  _ good _ and I’m me. I’m London’s most-hated journalist and I scare people and I dress like some sort of goth reject and I’m awkward and-” 

Crowley was cut off by the other person. He sighed. 

“You know you usually have to get a license to be a therapist,” Crowley laughed. “By the way, have you thought about my proposal?... Okay, okay, no rush, except I’d like to do this as soon as possible if you approve. Okay. Yes. Good. Fine. Alright. Happy Christmas, Beez.” 

Before Crowley could catch Aziraphale eavesdropping, Aziraphale turned and padded softly to his room. He felt so light and happy. Crowley liked him… a lot. Enough to talk about with what was maybe an old friend. He called him good and adorable and an angel. 

Aziraphale wondered what the proposal Crowley was talking about was, but he supposed it was something with work. Crowley didn’t talk much about work, but Aziraphale knew that Crowley’s stories often got him into a lot of trouble. Aziraphale didn’t mind that, it meant he was doing his job and keeping people in check. Crowley had that sort of power, his contact list was probably full of some of the most important people in all of London. And Aziraphale, well, was a bookseller in a small town. 

Not that he didn’t like his job. It had been his dream ever since he was a little boy to be surrounded by books. He hadn’t accounted for the fact that he’d have to sell them, but life doesn’t always turn out exactly how you want it to, does it? 

As he grabbed a few sweaters from his closet, Aziraphale thought about what life would be like if he and Crowley did start a relationship. He hadn’t allowed himself to get this far in his daydreams previously because he assumed it could only end in heartbreak, but he was far too gone now to think about anything other than a happy ending. 

He imagined greeting Crowley as he comes home from a long day of chasing down slimy politicians and interviewing anonymous sources. Maybe he would have a cup of coffee on standby and cookies in the oven. Crowley would saunter his way through the door and Aziraphale would kiss him and they’d bask in each other’s presence for a few minutes exchanging little kisses that make Aziraphale giggle. 

Crowley would smell the cookies and Aziraphale would press the coffee mug into his hand and he’d give Aziraphale that breathtaking smile and say, “What did I do to deserve you, angel?” 

Aziraphale would laugh and bat him on the shoulder and go, “My dear, I do believe I should be asking the same about what  _ I _ did to deserve  _ you _ .” 

They’d kiss again and it would be bitter from the coffee. Maybe they’d be so wrapped up in each other that the cookies would burn or they’d catch them right before they did and talk about their days as they munched on them happily. 

Crowley would whisk Aziraphale away to fancy restaurants and galas that he got them into because he “knows a guy.” Aziraphale would always be on Crowley’s arm and they’d mingle and laugh but really they want to get home so they could curl up on the couch and watch a movie or have silly arguments about things that don’t matter, like whether or not water is wet. 

Aziraphale sighed. 

As much as imagining all of that made the butterflies in his stomach take flight, he knew in the end he’d miss his bookshop terribly. He’d miss Tadfield terribly. It’s not that Aziraphale doesn’t wish to travel or try new things, but the bustle of life in a big city didn’t appeal to him, even if it came with spending time with Crowley. 

A knock at the door caused Aziraphale to jump. He wasn’t sure how long he had spaced out, but his bag was full of clothes and toiletries. He turned to see Crowley leaning against the door frame, smiling softly at him. 

“Ready yet, angel?” his arms were crossed and he looked so good Aziraphale could eat him. “Or do you need a few more minutes?” 

Aziraphale double-checked his bag to make sure he hadn’t missed anything in his stupor state. 

“No, dear, it seems I’m all in order,” Aziraphale picked his bag up and walked over to Crowley. “I just wanted to say, er, thank you. For inviting me to spend the holiday with you.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to look Crowley in the eyes, still feeling a little embarrassed at being caught in the middle of daydreaming about a life together that would likely never happen. 

Crowley reached out and put a hand on Aziraphale’s arm and Aziraphale found himself instantly relaxing at the touch. He risked a glance up at Crowley, who was still wearing his sunglasses. 

“Hey, none of that,” Crowley replied. “If anything, I’m grateful to you for accepting.” 

Aziraphale blushed at the similarity between this exchange and the one his imagination had conjured up in his daydream. 

“Right, well,” Aziraphale coughed to hide his embarrassment. “Shall we be off then? It’ll be getting dark soon.” 

Crowley smirked and slid his hand down Aziraphale’s arm to grab his hand. 

“Alright,” Crowley started tugging him down the hall. “Your chariot awaits.” 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh my god there was only one bed

“Are you feeling okay?” Crowley asked Aziraphale, who was looking a little frazzled as he exited the car. 

“Yes, yes, tickety-boo,” Aziraphale replied, holding on to the roof of the car and catching his breath. “I just can’t remember the last time I saw my life flash before my eyes.” 

Crowley laughed. 

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” 

The look Aziraphale shot Crowley told him that yes, it was that bad. Crowley made a mental note to drive more carefully the next time he takes Aziraphale anywhere. 

The ride had been fairly short and the conversation was pleasant. The conversation was always pleasant when it was with Aziraphale. He was mightily intelligent and was able to match Crowley wit-for-wit in every aspect. 

Crowley grabbed both of their bags from the car - he had left the bulk of his luggage in the boot, as he had originally packed for a month, but they would now only be in the cabin for the next few days. Crowley had the cabin until the 27th, with a return planned for London in time for the New Year. 

It was currently the 20th, so that left them with a full week to spend together. Crowley was trying not to let the prospect of this being the last time they’d see each other get him down. He was sure this wouldn’t be their final meeting. It couldn’t be. 

He also desperately wished he could be with Aziraphale for the New Year. Maybe by then he’d have built up the courage to kiss him as the clock struck midnight. 

They entered the cabin and it was much cozier than Crowley had originally thought. There was a fireplace in the living room in front of a large, soft-looking couch, a full kitchen with a little island and stools in the middle, there were old looking rugs lining the wood flooring, and there were softly glowing lights hanging from the low ceiling. 

“Well, this is downright rustic, dear,” Aziraphale commented as he moved to run his hands over the back of the couch. “Shame it’s only getting a week of use out of the original four.”

“Ah, yes, it  _ would _ be a shame, if that didn’t also mean I would’ve never met you.” Crowley smacked himself internally. That came out way more strong and fond than he had meant it. But when he risked a glance at Aziraphale, he was smiling down at the couch with a dreamy look on his face. 

“And a great shame that would have been,” Aziraphale replied, still looking down at the couch. 

They stood in silence for a beat, Crowley sure his heart had dropped right out of his chest and was wiggling around on the floor with joy, before Aziraphale clapped and announced that he was going to start decorating with the items they had brought from his flat. 

Crowley finished bringing in the baking supplies and the blankets and went to put the luggage away when he made a startling realization. 

He had planned to stay in this cabin alone. Which meant there was only one room. And only one bed. 

Of course, there had only been one bed at Aziraphale’s flat. The difference was that, well, it was  _ Aziraphale’s _ flat, so there was no question that he’d sleep in his own bed, and Crowley was fine with sleeping on the couch. However, here, the situation was flipped. As Crowley had paid for the cabin, it was arguably  _ his _ bed, but he already knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep with Aziraphale out on the potentially uncomfortable couch. 

Crowley resolved to offer Aziraphale the bed and not take “no” for an answer. He had already spent three weeks on a couch, he could manage another one. 

Crowley set Aziraphale’s bag on the bed and walked back out to the living room. Aziraphale had already finished setting up the decorations and was now inspecting the small Christmas tree that they had picked up from the grocer. It was about two feet tall and Aziraphale had positioned it on a side table in the corner of the room. 

“Did you grab the wrong bag?” Aziraphale asked, turning away from the tree. 

“No, uh, listen,” Crowley started. “I forgot there’s obviously only one bed and I want you to take it. I can sleep out here on the couch.” 

Aziraphale frowned. 

“Dear, you’ve  _ been _ sleeping on the couch, I can-” 

“No, no, angel, I insist,” Crowley waved him off. “It’s not a problem-” 

“Or,” Aziraphale interrupted. “We could just… ahem… we could  _ share _ the bed, you know.” 

Crowley felt his entire brain shut down. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t talk, thoughts were only just barely forming other than repeating the words “share,” “bed,” and “with Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale waited for Crowley to answer for a second before blushing. 

“I mean, that’s, only- it just makes more sense since neither of us seem particularly inclined to let the other sleep out here.” 

Crowley’s mind finally booted back up and he felt his own face heat up. 

“No, no, that’s fine. Like you said, it makes sense.” 

“Right.”

“Right.” 

Another beat of the most painfully awkward silence Crowley has ever experienced. 

“So, what did you wanna do for dinner?” Crowley asked, picking his bag back up and heading back toward the bedroom. “I bought enough groceries for the week and I was thinking we could do steak tonight.” 

Crowley plopped the bag onto the bed next to Aziraphale’s and tried not to think too hard about how they’d be sleeping there together tonight. Was Aziraphale a cuddler? Did he snore? Did he run hot or cold when he slept? Would he steal all of the blankets? Crowley felt thrilled at the fact that he’d be learning soon enough. 

“Steak sounds wonderful,” Aziraphale replied. He sounded as flustered as Crowley felt. 

Crowley walked back into the living room and smiled at Aziraphale, who seemed to relax a little as he returned the smile.

“Let’s get cooking, then!” 

*********

A few hours later, and they were sitting on the couch, full from the dinner Crowley had cooked and watching Rudolph. 

Aziraphale seemed to be paying very close attention to the movie despite saying he watched it every Christmas. If Crowley didn’t know any better, it looked like it was his first time. 

They weren’t cuddling or holding hands like they had been the last few weeks. Crowley sensed a sort of awkwardness since they agreed to share the bed and he didn’t want to invade Aziraphale’s space in case it made him feel weird about it. 

Crowley itched for the contact, though. 

He kept eyeing Aziraphale’s hand, which was laying limp on the cushion between them. After arguing with himself for another five minutes on whether or not Aziraphale had put his hand there as a silent invitation, Crowley covered it with his own hand and kept his eyes glued to the TV. 

He saw out of his periphery that Aziraphale had turned to look down at their hands. A second later, he felt Aziraphale turn his hand over and twined their fingers together, sighing as if it was a relief. 

Crowley smiled to himself and tried to pay attention to the movie. Before long, it was over and Aziraphale was yawning. 

“Tired?” Crowley asked, almost whispering, afraid to break the quiet spell that had fallen over them. 

“Oh quite,” Aziraphale replied, giving Crowley’s hand a final squeeze and moving to get up. “Are you coming to bed, then?” 

_ He doesn’t mean it like that, just be normal, _ he yelled at his heart. 

“Uh yep, yep,” Crowley replied, standing and stretching. He watched as Aziraphale’s eyes traveled down to the little bit of skin that was exposed from his shirt lifting up and then immediately look away. Crowley wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that, but he knew it gave him butterflies. 

They walked in silence to the bedroom and Aziraphale gathered his pajamas. Crowley told him he could get changed in the bathroom and that Crowley would change in the room, and he’d let Aziraphale know when it was okay to come out. 

Crowley changed into his pajamas - a black crewneck and a pair of grey, striped sleep pants. It was much colder in the bedroom than it had been in the living room, so he put on a pair of socks and turned on the little portable free-standing hearth. 

“Okay, angel, you can come out,” Crowley called. 

Aziraphale opened the door and Crowley softened. He looked so cuddly in his flannel tartan pajama set. Crowley wanted to wrap himself around him and never ever let go. 

“Ah, thank you for that,” Aziraphale said, nodding at the hearth. “I was going to say it was a bit nippy in here.” 

“No problem,” Crowley replied. “So, uh, which side of the bed do you sleep on?” 

Aziraphale’s ears pinkened. 

“The right usually,” he replied, fidgeting with the hem of his sleep shirt. 

“Really?” Crowley asked. “I sleep on the left! How lucky.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him as they turned the blankets down and crawled in. Crowley was instantly hit with the overwhelming smell of Aziraphale and it took everything in him to not loudly inhale it. It was subtly sweet, like warm cookies, with a hint of dust and parchment. Crowley wondered what he smelled like to Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale coughed. 

“Well, good night, dear.” 

Crowley turned off the bedside lamp and laid back down on his back. 

“Good night, angel.” 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more romantic Christmas shenanigans!

The days passed much like they had at the Aziraphale’s flat. They bantered, they baked, they watched cheesy Christmas movies while they cuddled on the couch while pointedly not talking about it, Aziraphale read, Crowley worked on his book. It was all very  _ domestic.  _

Not that that was a bad thing. In fact, it was unfortunately a very, very good thing. Crowley hadn’t felt this at home with someone in years, maybe ever. And they slept in the same bed every night. 

If Crowley allowed himself, he could almost pretend that this was just his life now. Him and Aziraphale, living in their cottage about ten minutes from the small town they lived in, enjoying retirement and spending their days disgustingly in love and at ease. 

It didn’t sound half bad. 

Christmas was quickly approaching and Crowley found himself feeling genuinely excited. He wasn’t sure why, he hadn’t had the chance to get Aziraphale anything super special or meaningful (plus, he wasn’t sure what the protocol was on gift giving re: your not-boyfriend that you’ve only known for a few weeks). But he had gathered a few little trinkets and chocolates and a flower or two from stores around town and was planning on presenting those to him on Christmas morning. Plus, it was more about the thought, right? 

Crowley was just finishing up the bow on a comically large box of chocolate truffles when Aziraphale knocked on the bedroom door. Crowley quickly hid the box under the bed, behind his bag, and whipped around to face the door. 

“Come in!” he called, kicking his bag just a little farther under the bed for good measure. 

Aziraphale entered looking extremely giddy. 

“Are you busy?” he asked, eyes shining brightly. 

“Not particularly, no,” Crowley responded, raising an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Come outside.” 

Crowley followed Aziraphale, who was practically floating with joy, out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the front door. Aziraphale told him to put on his jacket, boots, scarf, and hat. 

“What? Are we going hiking or something? Because you should know that I may be skinny, but I’m not exactly athletic enough for hiking,” Crowley said as he wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck. 

“No, it’s nothing like that, dear, just come. You’ll see.”    
  
Crowley sighed and pushed open the front door to find… a sleigh? 

“Angel?” Crowley asked, staring in awe at what was definitely a bright red sleigh. 

Aziraphale put his hands on Crowley’s shoulders and pushed him toward the seating in the front, next to where the driver would sit. A light brown horse whinnied at them and Crowley flinched. 

“Sorry, bit scared of horses,” Crowley explained. “Aziraphale, what is this?” 

“It’s a sleigh,” Aziraphale replied as he proudly came around to sit in the driver's seat, taking hold of reins. “I borrowed it from one of my regulars at the bookshop. The horse, too. Her name is Agnes and she doesn’t bite, but I wouldn’t get too close.” 

Crowley gaped at him. 

“And you did this… for me?” 

Aziraphale ducked shyly and looked at Agnes. 

“Well, yes,” he looked up. “You remember last week when we were listening to ‘Sleigh Ride?’ And you said, ‘Who has ever actually taken a sleigh in the last hundred years? They should change the song to ‘Car Ride in Bloody Holiday Traffic.’” 

Crowley laughed. 

“Yes, I remember saying something like that.” 

Aziraphale beamed at him. 

“So, this is me proving you wrong.” 

Crowley laughed some more, clutching his stomach. He could not believe that this amazing, pernickety, beautiful man rented out a real-life sleigh and horse just because Crowley had made a sarcastic comment in passing a week ago. 

After wiping away a few stray laughter-tears, Crowley gestured to the horse. 

“I can’t believe you,” Crowley mumbled, still smiling. “Alright, let’s get this thing moving, then.” 

“Right.” 

Aziraphale stared at the reins with a puzzled expression. 

“You don’t know how to drive it, do you?” Crowley asked, already feeling another laughing fit approach.

“To be quite honest - no,” Aziraphale said. “But, how hard can it be? The owner left me a few basic instructions. Erm… giddyap?” 

Aziraphale cracked the reins and the horse began to move down the little path from the cabin to the forest. They were jolted forward, and Crowley, who had thought it would take much more than that, was unprepared and almost fell out of his seat right into the snow. Luckily, Aziraphale had caught his sleeve and they were now trotting along at a leisurely pace. 

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence. Crowley was admiring the winter wonderland around them, how the trees were dusted with snow and sparkled in the sunlight, and Aziraphale was focusing on not crashing. After a little while, Crowley began to shiver. Despite his warm coat and scarf, his jeans were still a bit thin. 

Aziraphale shot him a sidelong glance before sighing and opening his right arm wide. 

“Come here, darling,” Aziraphale cooed. 

Crowley was pretty sure his entire body shut down for a second. He had thought that simply being called “dear” was enough to kill him, but now Aziraphale had to go and pull out “darling.” 

Not one to waste an opportunity, however, Crowley immediately slid over and wiggled into Aziraphale’s side. He leaned his head on Aziraphale’s soft shoulder and reveled in the tight hold Aziraphale had on his hip. 

“Better?” he asked, softly. 

“Much.” 

Aziraphale grabbed the rein he had released and held it in his hand by Crowley’s hip. They trotted along for a little while longer before Aziraphale clicked his tongue and turned the sleigh around. They didn’t talk and that was okay. They didn’t have to. 

Crowley felt warm all over and his insides were surely a puddle of goo at this point. This was, by far, the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him. And he wasn’t even sure if romance was the point of this little gesture. 

_ Of course it is, you idiot, _ Crowley scolded himself.  _ You don’t take friends on sleigh rides where you cuddle them the entire time… or do you? _

Before Crowley could argue with himself further, Aziraphale started to hum. Crowley listened for a second before recognizing the tune. Of course he was humming- 

“Giddy-yap, giddy-yap, giddy-yap, let's gooooo, let's look at the shoowww,” Aziraphale sang in a soft, whisper tone. “We're riding in a wonderland of snooooww.” 

Crowley let out an exasperated sigh, but couldn’t help joining in. 

“Giddy-yap, giddy-yap, giddy-yap, it's graaaand just holding your hand,” Crowley burrowed in closer. “We're gliding along with a song of a wintery fairyland.” 

“Our cheeks are nice and rosy, and comfy-cozy are we,” they sang in unison. “We're snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would beeeee.” 

They sang happily, slowly growing louder and louder, as they approached the cabin. 

“These wonderful things are the things we remember all through our lives!” they belted, startling Agnes. “Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingling, too! Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with youuuu. Outside, the snow is falling, and friends are calling, ‘yoo-hoo!’” 

They laughed some more and Crowley lifted his head from its spot on Aziraphale’s shoulder to look up at him. His eyes were doing that sparkling thing again and the sun was catching on his curls, making them look almost white. They came to a slow stop and Aziraphale turned to look back down at Crowley. 

“Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you,” Crowley finished, very quietly, looking between Aziraphale’s eyes and his lips. They were so close, all Crowley would have to do is move maybe half an inch and they’d be kissing. 

Before Crowley could think too hard about whether that was appropriate, or even something Aziraphale wanted (though, judging from the way Aziraphale was staring back at Crowley, it wasn’t hard to guess), a small cough came from in front of them. 

Aziraphale looked away and Crowley turned his gaze on the source of the cough. It was a short, stout man, with rosy cheeks and a light brown hunter’s hat on. 

“Ah, Sandy,” Aziraphale said, smiling at the man. “Thank you, again, for letting me borrow Agnes. She was an absolute delight.” 

Crowley moved so he was out of Aziraphale’s arms and hopped off of the sleigh. 

“Glad to hear it, Mr. Fell,” the man, Sandy, replied. “And a Happy Christmas to you and yours.”

Aziraphale thanked the man, profusely, again and ushered Crowley back into the cabin, chastising him for not dressing warm enough. 

“Fashion trumps function, angel, you should know that about me by now,” Crowley replied. “And thank you. For the- the everything. I know I’ve said it a thousand times by now, but really. You didn’t have to do all of this.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and tutted. 

“It’s no trouble at all. Besides, I wanted you to enjoy your first Christmas Eve as an ex-Scrooge.” Aziraphale turned from him and began taking off his outerwear, laying it gingerly on the radiator by the front door. 

Crowley stopped breathing. Christmas Eve? That can’t be right. That would mean… 

“I’m going to whip up some hot cocoa, dear, I assume you want some? Or perhaps a cup of coffee?” Aziraphale, either ignoring Crowley having a small episode or not seeing it at all, asked. 

“S-sure.” 

Christmas Eve. That would mean they only had three more days together, and if Crowley’s little pitch to Beez doesn’t go through, these could be the last three days Aziraphale and Crowley have. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i've been waiting for this one!

Aziraphale went to bed that night feeling very pleased with himself. The sleigh ride had been a success if Crowley’s stammering was any indication. He had smiled at Aziraphale in that way that made him feel like he was soaring and they almost- 

Aziraphale felt himself blush. They had certainly almost kissed. There have been quite a few times over the last few weeks that Aziraphale found himself staring a little too longingly at Crowley’s lips. He thought that he was finally able to control it, but then Crowley looked at him like that and there were flakes of snow scattered on his hat and cheeks and they were having such a pleasant day… 

Aziraphale became very aware suddenly of Crowley’s presence next to him in their bed. 

_ Their _ bed. Good Lord, Aziraphale really was gone, wasn’t he? 

He turned over and faced a sleeping Crowley. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him that it was nearing midnight. 

The mini-hearth was lit and cast a soft glow onto Crowley’s face, relaxed with slumber. He looked beautiful. Aziraphale smiled to himself and couldn’t help reaching out and running his fingers gently over Crowley’s cheek. 

Crowley twitched for a second before rolling toward Aziraphale and before he could do anything about it, he found himself suddenly with an armful of long limbs and a noseful of red hair. Crowley was now clinging to Aziraphale loosely and had thrown a leg over him. Aziraphale was stiff at first, but as Crowley snuggled in closer, he relaxed. 

He tentatively rested his arm on Crowley and began petting his hair gently, like they so often did on the couch. Aziraphale lay there for a few minutes trying to pace his breathing with Crowley’s soft snuffles, when he felt the breathing change. Crowley tensed. 

“Angel?” Crowley whispered, voice addled with a bit of sleepy confusion. 

Aziraphale kissed the crown of his head. 

“I’m here, darling.” Aziraphale had noticed earlier during the sleigh ride that Crowley had an overwhelmingly pleased reaction to the new pet name, and so Aziraphale resolved to use it as much as he can while he still could. His heart ached as he remembered their limited time left together. 

“Whut time izzit?” 

“It’s about half past midnight.” 

“S’ Christmas, then, isn’t it?” Crowley relaxed back into Aziraphale’s hold and his nose was tickling Aziraphale’s neck. 

“Yes it is,” Aziraphale paused thoughtfully. “Shall we go see if Santa has visited?” 

He felt Crowley smile. 

“Hm, hoping to catch the old bastard in the act, were you?” Crowley chuckled and Aziraphale felt it rumble through his own chest. 

“Oh, no need - it seems he’s already brought me exactly what I wanted.” 

Crowley lifted his head up just slightly to look Aziraphale in the eyes. He looked far more awake than he had sounded a few seconds ago. 

“And what was that?” Crowley asked. 

“You.” 

The words hung in the air. Aziraphale wasn’t even sure if he had really said them, but Crowley was looking so intensely at him that he must have. 

“Angel, can I kiss you?” Crowley breathed. 

“Oh, my dear, I have been waiting almost a month for you to do so,” Aziraphale replied, a wide grin breaking out across his face. 

Crowley reached up to cup Aziraphale’s cheek and kissed him softly. Aziraphale had never felt something so right in his entire life. Kissing Crowley felt like coming home after a long day at work. It felt like slipping into a warm sweater after being out in the cold, like lowering yourself into a hot bath or settling into a comfortable bed. 

Aziraphale hummed and Crowley began to move away before Aziraphale adjusted the angle and pulled him right back in. They laid like that for a few minutes, exchanging short, sweet kisses and smiling like buffoons. 

Crowley worked his way all over Aziraphale’s face, placing pecks on his eyelids, the apples of his cheeks, his nose, his brow bone, and his forehead before moving back to his lips. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale laughed. “That tickles.” 

Crowley placed one final kiss on the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth before pulling back and laying his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he replied, sheepishly. “May have gotten a bit carried away.” 

Aziraphale leaned forward and it was his turn to place a soft kiss on Crowley’s nose. 

“Hm, actually, I’m starting to see the appeal of doing that,” Aziraphale said as they settled back into their starting cuddling position. 

He felt their heartbeats begin to slow back down as he stroked Crowley’s hip idly. He felt content and warm and full of love. 

Was that what this was? Love? Aziraphale wasn’t sure he was able to tell. Had he ever been in love before? He must have at some point. But the feeling sitting in his chest right now was alien to him. 

Could you love someone after such a short time? Did Crowley love him? Wasn’t this all going a bit fast? 

“I can feel you thinking, Aziraphale,” Crowley said. “What’s on your mind?” 

Aziraphale thought briefly about lying to Crowley. He thought about saying that it was nothing and not to worry about it. But that didn’t feel right, and Aziraphale wanted things to feel as right as they have been since they met. 

“Not to be too forward, dear, but I do think I might be in love with you.” 

Crowley chuckled, which was already a better reaction than Azirpahale was expecting. 

“Funny you say that,” Crowley replied. “Because I’ve been thinking that I might be in love with you, too.” 

Aziraphale felt relief flood through his body. 

“Really?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “How interesting.” 

Crowley laughed, again, and Aziraphale found himself laughing in return. He was so happy and in love that he could almost feel himself glowing. 

They sat in their happy glow for a moment before Aziraphale remembered one very important detail that his mind had oh-so-helpfully forgotten - Crowley was to go back to London in two days. 

“Oh, darling, what are we going to do?” Aziraphale said, pulling Crowley in a little tighter. “You have to leave for London on Sunday. And who knows when we’ll be able to see each other again after that. I know you’re very good at your job and-” 

“Aziraphale.” 

“I would never ask you to leave your job or to focus less on it because it’s so clear that you enjoy what you do and it’s very important work and I, well, I just run a little bookshop in a small town an hour and a half away and-” 

“Aziraphale.” 

“Oh, but I can’t imagine spending any extended time away from you now. Especially after spending almost an entire month together and we’ve only just come to terms with our feelings and now that I’ve learned what it’s like to kiss you, I’m quite afraid I may be addicted to that and holding you, but we can’t just-” 

“Angel!” 

Aziraphale stopped his rambling and looked at Crowley, who had sat up from their position. Crowley put a hand on Aziraphale’s neck and leaned down to kiss him again, and he felt all of his worries momentarily float away. 

“Don’t worry, I have a plan. I can’t tell you the details just yet in case it doesn’t work out, but do you trust me?” 

Aziraphale stared up at him. He does. God help him, but he does trust this strange man with all of his heart. 

“Yes.” 

“I promise you, this isn’t the end of us, okay?” Crowley laid back down. “It’s just the beginning.” 

Aziraphale didn’t know how or why, but he knew Crowley was right. Whatever it was he had up his sleeve, Aziraphale had to trust that it would work. And oh, did he hope. 

“Good night, love,” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s hair. “Happy Christmas.” 

“Happy Christmas, angel.” 

They fell asleep fairly quickly after that, holding each other close and basking in the warmth of their newly confessed feelings and the hope that was quickly threading itself through their hearts. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> christmas day with the lovebirds

Crowley woke up to the feeling of something lightly caressing his face. It wasn’t an intrusion, but felt pleasant and warm. 

He cracked an eye open to find a cherubic face looking back at him - eyes crinkled and lips pulled into a gentle smile. An angel watching over him. 

“Good morning, dear,” Aziraphale whispered and kissed the top of his head. 

Crowley smiled back, remembering last night’s confession and the kisses that followed. An onslaught of love washed over him and he snuggled back into the warmth of Aziraphale’s chest, not ready to face the day quite yet. 

“Mornin’, angel,” Crowley mumbled into Aziraphale’s sleep shirt. 

Aziraphale wrapped his arms tighter around Crowley. They laid like that for a while before Crowley remembered another very important detail. After a bit of wiggling, he lifted himself up on his hands to kiss Aziraphale softly on the lips. 

He pulled back and smiled as he watched a red flush color Aziraphale’s cheeks. 

“Almost forgot I could do that now,” Crowley said, leaning in for another peck. “And now that I can, I won’t be stopping any time soon.” 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said in a fake scolding tone. “I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.” 

Crowley kissed his cheeks and mumbled, “Hmm don’t care.” 

“You are incorrigible.”

“And you are ridiculous. But I still love you.” 

Crowley heard Aziraphale’s breath hitch and he realized, despite admitting as much in the quiet stillness of last night, they actually hadn’t said “I love you” to each other. Crowley mentally kicked himself for just blurting it out like that and not coming up with a more grand gesture. 

Aziraphale, for his part, was looking up at Crowley in wonder. 

“I love you, too,” he replied, grabbing one of Crowley’s hands to brush a kiss across his knuckles. “Now, let’s get up, shall we? Don’t want to waste Christmas Day just laying around.” 

Crowley groaned and stood up from the bed, stretching until he felt his back crack a few times. He turned back and put his hand out for Aziraphale, who took it with a tender expression playing across his face. They set about starting the morning, with Crowley making a full English breakfast and Aziraphale puttering to and fro, gathering together gifts and putting them under the tree. 

Once breakfast was ready, they sat down to eat and exchanged stories from Christmas mornings past. Aziraphale had spent the last few years dressing up as Santa and volunteering at a local soup kitchen with the Them in tow as his Elven helpers. They would pass out presents collected by the town and serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

“Are you sure you’re not actually an angel?” Crowley asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I’m inclined to believe there aren’t people like you anywhere else on Earth, so you must be from Heaven.” 

Aziraphale giggled, the sound ringing through the morning air. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aziraphale replied. “You might find it silly, but I just… I want to give back to the world all of the kindness that I’ve been denied my entire life. Being bullied as a child by schoolmates, and as an adult by family, I wasn’t always granted a friendly face or helping hand. So, this is my way of making up for it - by being that kindness I always wished for for other people.” 

Crowley was absolutely not about to cry, no sirree. He blinked back a few not-tears and cleared his throat. 

“Oh, don’t look so sad,” Aziraphale said, putting a hand over Crowley’s on the table. “This town has given me so much love. Including yours.” 

Crowley gave up the battle and felt a tear run down his cheek. Aziraphale lifted his other hand to cup Crowley’s face and dabbed the offending tear away with his thumb. Crowley let out a shaky sigh. 

“My love, there’s no need to cry,” Aziraphale said, smiling at him. “I’m okay, now. I promise. I have made many friends since then and now, I have you.” 

Crowley felt his chest constrict. There were far too many emotions happening before noon and he wasn’t sure how much more his heart could take. He grabbed the hand Aziraphale had on his cheek and kissed the wrist. 

Crowley blinked away a few more tears and wiped his nose on his sleeve before standing up and collecting the dishes. 

“Do you-” he cleared his throat. “Do you wanna open presents?” 

Aziraphale smiled brightly and clapped his hands. 

“Of course, dear boy,” he stood up and walked over to the record player. “Let me put on some Christmas ‘jams’ to get us in the mood.” 

Crowley felt a startled laugh fly out of him. He could hear the quotation marks around the word “jams.” After washing up the dishes, and while Aziraphale fiddled with the record player, he walked down the hallway to the bedroom and retrieved his gifts. 

When he came back, Eartha Kitt’s crooning voice was filling the room and Aziraphale was making a cup of cocoa. 

“Oh my, all of that is for me?” Aziraphale said, smiling into his first sip. “Crowley, you really shouldn’t have.” 

“I wanted to,” Crowley replied, setting the bags and boxes gingerly in front of the tree. “Alright, who should go first?” 

About an hour later, they were lounging on the couch, wrapping paper in shreds around them, Crowley with his head in Aziraphale’s lap and Aziraphale mindlessly petting him while watching “Elf” with a hilarious amount of concentration. 

Crowley was wrapped in his new cardigan, a gift from Aziraphale. It was black with red trimmings and was quite possibly the softest thing Crowley had ever owned. Aziraphale was wearing the slippers Crowley had gotten him, their tartan pattern almost matching his pajama bottoms exactly, eating chocolate truffles from the box. 

“Is that all of the presents, then?” Crowley asked sleepily. 

“Ah! One last one,” Aziraphale got up, leaving Crowley’s head to bonk onto the couch. “The letters.”

Crowley sat up, rubbing the back of his head dramatically, and reached for the envelope with Aziraphale’s name on it. He had almost forgotten. 

“Right,” he ripped it open at the same time as Aziraphale and slipped the paper into his hands. 

_ Dear Santa,  _

_ My, this seems quite silly, doesn’t it? I know it’ll just be Crowley reading this, yet I can’t help but get a little bit lost in the spirit.  _

_ For Christmas this year, I shall be asking for the same thing I have asked for since I moved out of my family’s home - someone special, really, truly special, to spend the holidays with. Now, I know that is a tad vague, so I’ll describe this gift a little more in detail, if you don’t mind.  _

_ This special person would have fiery red hair. So red, in fact, that you question whether or not it's natural, but you can’t quite picture them with any other color so you just assume that it is defying all laws of human nature and is very much natural. They’d be, perhaps, a little bit lanky. All long limbs with nowhere to put them. They’d have freckles dotting their beaked nose and wear ridiculous sunglasses that cover their gorgeous eyes.  _

_ Add in a bit of sarcasm, and a biting wit. A laugh that could rival the most ardent celestial choirs, a smile that could tempt Eve to do much more than bite the apple, and far too much charm for one person. Finally, give them a dash of a stutter, a pinch of awkwardness that borders on endearing, and a kind heart, even if they don’t want to admit it.  _

_ I know in years past I’ve asked you for this gift without giving you a full description. Perhaps that is why it has gone unfulfilled. I don’t blame you, Santa, as it’s entirely my fault.  _

_ As it turns out, I hadn’t been sure of what I wanted until now.  _

_ I do hope you are able to deliver this year. Give Rudolph and the lads a carrot for me! And don’t work too hard.  _

_ Happy Christmas,  _

_ Aziraphale Fell  _

Crowley looked up and found Aziraphale staring at him. 

“You really did ask for me…” Crowley mumbled in awe. “Makes my letter look silly, now.” 

Aziraphale grinned and held up the letter. 

“I wouldn't say that, dear,” Aziraphale replied. “Although, I am curious, as he delivered on my wish - was Santa able to help you find an ending to your book?” 

Crowley stood up and crossed over to where Aziraphale was sitting on the ground. He reached down to pull Aziraphale into a kiss. They were both a bit too smiley for it to be a proper kiss, but Crowley found that he didn’t care. 

“You know what, angel? I think he has.” 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley gets a very important text

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys sorry for the late upload! you may also notice that the chapter count went up. the story ended up a little longer than i anticipated and i wanted to include an epilogue. 
> 
> hope you're all staying safe and healthy!

They spent the rest of the day exchanging tender glances and cuddling on the couch while Aziraphale marathoned every Christmas movie known to man. Crowley had his head firmly in Aziraphale’s lap and only removed it when Aziraphale had to get more cocoa or grab a snack. 

Just as “It’s a Wonderful Life” began, Aziraphale sighed and moved a pliant Crowley so that they were laying down together, Crowley on top of Aziraphale, with his head now pillowed on Aziraphale’s chest. 

Crowley felt his heart flutter and he reflected on just how and when he had become so disgustingly soppy. He tucked his arms under Aziraphale and immediately fell asleep, feeling warm and content and so very in love. 

When he woke up, it was dark out and Aziraphale was kissing the top of his head. 

“Time to wake up, darling, so we can start making dinner,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“How long was I out?” Crowley asked, shooting up from his position and accidentally kneeing Aziraphale in the shin. “Also, you have got to stop letting me sleep, angel, I feel like I’m boring you.”

Aziraphale smiled at him and shook his head. 

“Crowley, first of all, you could never bore me,” he replied. “Second of all, from what you’ve told me of your life back in London, I have a feeling you never get to sleep. And it looks like it’s very much something you enjoy. Plus, you look so adorable, with your soft snoring and your little drool.” 

Crowley felt his face heat up at a rapid speed.  _ Drool????? _

“Ange- Aziraph- Do-..... I do  _ not _ drool,” Crowley said, standing up and walking over to the kitchen with his arms crossed. 

“Oh, don’t be so self-conscious, it’s so cute!” Aziraphale followed him into the kitchen and began taking out pots and pans. The turkey had been cooking all day, so that was taken care of - all they needed to do was make the stuffing, roast the potatoes and brussel sprouts, put the yorkshire pudding in the oven, and make sure the mince pies were ready to be put in right after dinner for dessert. 

“I’m not cute, I’m an adult man and I’m very sexy,” Crowley whined before immediately bumping into the counter and jabbing his hip. “OI!” 

Aziraphale came up behind him and rubbed the spot Crowley had hurt, before placing a kiss on the spot just below his ear.    
  
“Yes, you’re right, so incredibly sexy, not at all adorable.” 

Crowley could hear the sarcasm dripping off every word and huffed. 

“ _ Anyways, _ let’s get cooking before I make an even bigger fool out of myself,” Crowley mumbled. 

Aziraphale laughed and they got to work. Despite being a danger to himself and those around him while in the kitchen, Crowley was a fairly competent chef, as proven by the many meals he had made for Aziraphale over the last month, and so the rest of the evening went by relatively smoothly. 

Minus the part where Crowley had pushed Aziraphale against the oven in an unexpected snogging session that almost caused a tea towel to catch on fire. But nobody’s perfect. 

Just as they were finishing up, Crowley got a text. A quick precursory glance told him it was from Beez, so he excused himself from the kitchen and walked down the hall to the bedroom. He took a deep breath. This was it, this text held his and Aziraphale’s future. 

_ From: Beez  _

_ 3 min ago _

_ alright, i talked to the board of assholes. they seemed interested, but they want an in-person presentation before the new year.  _

_ i set up a meeting for monday at noon. it’s short notice, but it’s the only time they had available.  _

_ are u sure this is what u want? they don’t like to have their time wasted.  _

Crowley let out the breath he was holding. The board of directors was interested. They wanted a presentation. There was hope. 

Let’s rewind a bit, shall we? 

Over the last month, Crowley and Aziraphale had been out to dinner, shopping, carolling, and snowball fighting, among other things, all over Tadfield. And not once did Crowley ever notice a newspaper stand. 

This was a small town, there was no doubt about that. A town so small that Crowley had to assume all news, both good and bad, was reported orally over coffee, on porches, at gas stations, and in passing between the residents. 

Crowley was not an idiot. He knew that print journalism was struggling and that the big bosses at Morningstar Daily were not looking to lose any more money than was strictly necessary to keep the paper afloat. But he also knew that taking chances is what made him such a good journalist, and he hoped that he would be able to convince the board that this chance was worth it. 

When he first shot a frantic email over to Beez, asking what they thought about him starting up a local newspaper office in Tadfield, with Morningstar Daily as the parent paper, they had been resistant. As much as Crowley annoyed them at times, he was still their best journalist. They were also very curious as to where this was all coming from. Crowley had never shown any signs of wanting to leave London before, so why now? 

Crowley didn’t want to tell them the truth at the time - that he was deeply in love with a man he met only a few short weeks ago and would do anything to stay near him, that he fell in love with not  _ just  _ the man, but the quaint country lifestyle that came with him and the town that had a laundry list of eccentric characters he’d already grown so fond of. 

Instead, he cited the rise of news deserts, communities that are no longer covered by daily newspapers, and included information about the population of the area, how there are stories just waiting to be told and people who deserved to be heard. 

Beez had tentatively agreed with him that the lack of a news source was odd and conceded that it  _ might _ work. However, they quickly figured out after a phone call with Crowley the other, more damning reason Crowley was suddenly itching to move to the country - love. 

Despite the fact that they thought Crowley was moving far too fast, they continued to help him. If that’s what Crowley wanted to do, they’d help him. 

Which brings us to now, December 25th, at 5:34 p.m.

Crowley had to put together a presentation in 2 days. He was going to be cutting it pretty close, but he could manage. He’d worked under far more ridiculous deadlines before and this time, it came with the promise of a potential lifetime of happiness. 

_ To: Beez  _

_ Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.  _

_ Thank you for your help, again. I’ll have a presentation put together for Monday. I’ll see you then x _

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called from down the hall. “Dinner’s ready!” 

Crowley locked his phone and put it back in his pocket. He’d have to leave Aziraphale, but it wouldn’t be for long. If all went well, he could very well be coming back in the New Year, permanently. He had already started looking for apartments in Tadfield.

As much as he and Aziraphale were very much in love and had compatible habits, he also recognized that they had spent their first month of knowing each other staying in the same flat with barely any time apart, and that having a place of his own for now would probably be best to start out. 

He tried to dismiss the thoughts of a time down the line where they move into a house together, whether that be in Tadfield or somewhere different, maybe near a beach, in a calm seaside town where they can spend the rest of their days going out to restaurants and traveling.

Crowley really hoped this presentation went well. 

“Coming, angel!” he called back, leaving the bedroom and being hit with an amazing smell. 

Aziraphale looked up from where he was setting the table and gave him the most heart-warming smile. And what was Crowley supposed to do if not immediately cross the room and give Aziraphale a few quick kisses all over his face? 

“I love you,” Crowley said in between pecks. 

Aziraphale laughed and gently pushed him away. 

“Yes, I love you, too,” he said. “But I really am very hungry.” 

Crowley released him and grinned. 

“Well, we don't want that, now do we?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like to headcanon that beez, much like myself, types in all lowercase and with very poor grammar despite being an editor at a newspaper


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley leaves for london and aziraphale has some company to help him cope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry again for the late upload, it's been a crazy weekend!!!

Aziraphale was not going to cry. 

It was Sunday evening, and Crowley was about to leave for London. He had explained over the weekend his plan to stay in Tadfield and to say Aziraphale was shocked was an understatement. 

He never would have guessed that someone like Crowley would not only  _ want _ to stay in a small, quiet town with a bookseller of all people, but would actively quit their current job to do so. 

Aziraphale set out to be as helpful as possible as Crowley put together his presentation. He offered many cups of coffee, warm blankets, got a couple of Tadfield residents to provide testimonies regarding the need for a local news source, and provided a few distracting kisses when it had been a while since Crowley had looked away from the screen. He also continued Crowley’s search for a nearby flat. 

He had been a little hurt at first to hear that Crowley would not be staying with him above the bookshop, but he realized fairly quickly that Crowley was right and they needed spaces of their own - at least for the time being. 

Crowley worked all through Saturday and into Sunday morning, only stopping to pack up and leave the cabin to head back to the bookshop. 

Now, Crowley was standing in the doorway they had stumbled through together all those weeks ago as strangers, holding Aziraphale tightly to his chest. 

“M’ gonna miss you, angel,” Crowley mumbled into the top of Aziraphale’s head.

Aziraphale chuckled. 

“It’ll only be a few days, dear,” he replied, rubbing circles into Crowley’s back. “At least, if all goes well it will, but if it doesn’t…” 

“Don’t even think about it,” Crowley said, pulling back to look Aziraphale in the eye. “Even if this plan goes pear-shaped, we can still run off together. I have you now, Aziraphale Fell, and I will not be letting you go any time soon.” 

Aziraphale reminded himself once again that he was not going to cry. 

They hugged for a little while longer, Aziraphale not caring about the draft that was currently sweeping into the shop, exchanged a few more frantic kisses and then Crowley was off. Aziraphale wrapped his cardigan a little tighter around his chest and watched as the Bentley disappeared around the corner. 

There was nothing left for him to do now but wait. He shuffled into the warmth and closed the door. It was much too late to open the shop for the day, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t want to open tomorrow either. 

He took the sign stating that they would be closed for the week he and Crowley spent at the cabin and added a note that included this week and wished everyone who attempted to enter a very Happy New Year. 

Just as he was walking up the steps to his flat to make a cup of tea and unpack properly, he heard a knock at the door. 

_ Did they not read the sign?  _ Aziraphale thought, angrily, to himself. He just wanted to sulk and pine in peace. 

He briefly debated not answering the door, pretending he was napping or maybe just didn’t hear it. But there was another knock followed by a, “I know you’re in there, asshole, I just saw Crowley leave! Open the door.” 

Ah, Anathema. Aziraphale had filled her in on the plan via text, which he was just starting to get the hang of thanks to Crowley. She was delighted that they had finally confessed their feelings (“Seriously, Aziraphale, I have never met two more oblivious beings”) and was even more delighted that Crowley wasn’t going to whisk Aziraphale away to London. 

“Give me just a moment!” Aziraphale called as he walked back down the stairs. When he opened the door, he was greeted by Anathema, Newt, the Them, Shadwell, and Madame Tracy. 

“Oh, my goodness, hello everyone,” he greeted as the Them ran past him and into the shop. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors.” 

“Hello, dearie,” Madame Tracy greeted, kissing Aziraphale on the cheek. “I hear you have a man, now! A woman leaves town for a few weeks of vacation and finally Aziraphale Fell finds some good di-” 

“Wonderful to see you, too, Madame!” Aziraphale said, cutting her off. “And what’s all this?” 

Anathema and Newt were carrying bags of food and colorfully wrapped boxes. They shuffled inside and set some of the bags down. 

“Well, we figured since you didn’t get to see everyone on Christmas like usual this year, that we’d have a little celebration of our own,” Anathema explained. “And we know you’re worried about Crowley, so we thought it’d cheer you up.” 

The universe seemed to be working very hard today to ensure that Aziraphale cries. He felt a few tears slip down his cheeks and Anathema immediately pulled him into a hug. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s come over me,” Aziraphale whispered into her shoulder. “But thank you so, so much for thinking of me. I’m glad you’re all here.” 

“Of course,” Anathema gave him a final squeeze and pulled away. “Now, come on, I made my famous apple pie and we brought some of that fancy vanilla ice cream you love.” 

Newt and Shadwell got to work on setting up the folding table Aziraphale kept in the bookshop from when he used to host a book club and the Them brought out the chairs, fighting over who could carry the most. Aziraphale and Madame Tracy set the table with the plastic and paper silverware that Newt and Anathema had brought. 

After some shuffling around and an incident where Adam almost pulled down all of Aziraphale’s garland, they were finally sitting at the table, a veritable feast before them. 

“Well, we certainly don’t have to say grace or anything, but I would like to say something, if that’s alright?” Aziraphale asked, looking at each of the smiling faces before him. 

“Go on, say what you want, laddie,” Shadwell said, eagerly looking at all of the food. 

“I just wanted to say that I’m extremely grateful for all of you,” Aziraphale started. “I haven’t had a family, technically speaking, in a very long time. But you’ve all made me forget about that, and for that, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being their replacement.”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” Adam recited. 

“Now, where on Earth did you hear that?” Newt said, looking over at Adam with an alarmed expression. 

“It was in one of those books that Anathema let me borrow!” Adam said, smiling at Anathema for approval. She was grinning back at him and nodded. “I think it means that, even though we aren’t Mr. Aziraphale’s real family, like brothers or sisters and stuff, our bonds are closer because we chose these relationships ourselves, instead of being forced into them by blood. Right?” 

Anathema grinned wider and ruffled Adam’s hair. 

“Exactly right.” 

Aziraphale could practically feel the waves of love in front of him. The warm, fuzzy feeling nestled itself into his heart as he thanked Adam and clapped his hands together, signaling that it was time to eat. 

Just as Aziraphale was about to tuck in to the delicious looking mashed potatoes on his plate, Madame Tracy turned to him. 

“So, tell me about your young man, hm?” She said with a twinkle in her eye. Madame Tracy had been trying to set Aziraphale up for years. “I want to hear all about him. I hear he’s very sexy and-” 

“Anathema! What have you been telling her?” Aziraphale said, pretending to be outraged. 

“What? It wasn’t  _ me _ who said that,” Anathema glanced out of the corner of her eye at Newt as she raised a wine glass to her lips. 

“Newton?” Aziraphale replied, turning a shocked look on the bespectacled man. 

“Well, I do have eyes, Mr. Fell,” Newt replied as he began turning a bright red. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but begin laughing and soon the entire table joined in. The kids all made fake gagging sounds and Shadwell was too focused on his plate to have even heard the conversation. 

“Well, if you must know, he is quite terribly handsome and kind and witty and did you know he’s a writer?” Aziraphale said as he came down from his laughing fit. “He’s… well, I hate to say it, but he’s-” 

“Perfect?” Madame Tracy smiled softly at him and patted his hand. “What’s his sign?” 

Aziraphale sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. 

“No! I will not be bullied by the stars from both you and Anathema!” 

“Well,” Anathema said, leaning back in her chair. “They were right the first time.” 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley hears back about his presentation

Crowley felt his heart hammer loudly in his chest as he stared at his buzzing phone like it was a bomb about to detonate the entire block. It might as well be. 

His presentation on Monday had gone great. Suspiciously great. He had never had a smoother meeting in his entire career. The board seemed very interested and they all listened carefully to his whole spiel, asking questions and offering suggestions. 

It was now Thursday, December 31st. New Years Eve. Crowley had hoped to be back in Tadfield to celebrate with Aziraphale, but he didn’t want to leave London until he heard back about the proposal, which was very silly. 

It didn’t matter where he was, the board was going to give him an answer whether he was in Tadfield or right around the block in London. He should have just gone back. 

But if Crowley were to be honest with himself, which he rarely is, he didn’t go back to Tadfield because he was afraid. Afraid of failure, afraid of hurting Aziraphale’s feelings by potentially not being able to follow through, afraid of losing the best thing that had happened to him in years, decades - his whole blessed life, really. 

Now, as he stared at Beez’s name flashing across his phone screen, he decided that he wouldn’t let that fear hold him back. He had to be brave. No matter what the answer was. 

“Hello?” he answered trying to keep the shake out of his voice. 

“Crowley! Glad I caught you - no plans for New Years?” Beez asked on the other end of the line. 

“Er, no, just wanted to have a quiet night in,” Crowley replied. It sounded like Beez was at some sort of bar judging from the loud music and voices in the background. “What about you?” 

“What did I tell you about asking personal questions?” they responded. “Anyways, I was just checking for my Uber and I saw that I had an email from Lucille. You know… from the board? They apparently had emailed me earlier in the day, but to be honest I’ve been sloshed since like 10 a.m.” 

Crowley felt a pang of annoyance. He could have had his answer hours ago if not for Beez’s shenanigans and why didn’t they just email him? Yeah, Beez was his boss, but it was  _ his _ idea and didn’t he have a right to hear directly from them what their response was? 

“Anyways,” Beez said, cutting through Crowley’s thoughts. “The plan is a go. They approved a budget and want you out there as soon as possible to look for a place to rent out for the office. You can keep your current salary and they’ll start you out with room for one additional reporter and see what the needs are from there.” 

Crowley felt frozen in time. It worked. The plan worked. 

“They want looped in on all of your progress, but you’re basically on your own, got it?” they paused a moment. “Crowley? 

Crowley’s breathing started back up. 

“Yes! I’m here, I just- I don’t- thank you, Beez,” he replied. “I do wish you had told me this…  _ earlier _ today.” 

Beez laughed. 

“Better late than never, right?”

Crowley sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Anyways, that’s all I was calling to say. I’ll forward the email over to you with the attachments tomorrow, but for now I’ll leave you to your Golden Girls marathon or whatever other lame thing you’re up to,” Beez said, a smile evident in their voice. “Ciao!” 

“Ciao,” Crowley mumbled into the phone. He looked up and found himself making eye contact with Betty White on the screen. “What am I still doing here?” he said to the empty room. 

He immediately got up and changed out of his joggers and into a pair of black skinny jeans and his favorite QUEEN shirt. He messed around with his hair a little bit, trying to go for ‘artfully tousled’ and ending up with the same bed head he’d been sporting for the last few days. 

Giving up, he grabbed his keys from the counter and ran out the door. His watch said that it was 10:42 p.m. If he drove fast, which he always did, he’d be able to make it to Tadfield just in time to kiss Aziraphale at midnight. 

He knew from texting with Aziraphale earlier in the day that he was at the diner, where the entire town was celebrating New Years at Anathema’s annual party. As he got into the Bentley, the reality of the situation caught up with him. 

He was going to be the Editor-in-Chief of a local newspaper, away from the stress and bustle of the city and submitting to domestic, small town bliss. He ripped out of his parking spot and almost hit a pedestrian.

“Watch it, lady!” he called out. “I’m trying to get to the love of my life!” 

*******

11:54 p.m. 

Crowley was just about to hit the outskirts of Tadfield. He had six minutes to find a parking spot, get inside the diner, find Aziraphale, and kiss him senseless. 

He pushed down harder on the gas pedal and prayed that the cops were all too busy celebrating themselves to pull him over. Skidding around the corner that led him directly into town square, Crowley spotted the restaurant, all lit up with Christmas lights still, and saw the small crowd that was inside through the windows. 

He found a parking spot about a block away and whipped into it, not caring if the park job was perfect. After almost slipping twice on a patch of ice, he checked his watch - 11:58 p.m. Oh, was he cutting it close. 

The bell above the door jingled as Crowley burst through it, but hardly anyone noticed. There was music playing loudly and conversations trying to be even louder. 

Crowley searched the room for a spot of bright, almost white hair and found it standing next to Newt at the punch bowl. 

“Okay, everyone, time to start counting down!” Anathema called, standing up in a booth and clicking her glass. “Ten, nine-” 

Crowley shoved a few people gently out of the way, eyes trained on those golden curls. 

_ “Eight, seven-”  _

He made eye contact with Newt, who smiled at him before turning to Aziraphale and gesturing for him to turn around. 

_ “Six, five-”  _

Aziraphale turned and oh, how Crowley had missed those eyes, that smile, this face of pure joy and happiness. 

“Crowley!” 

“Angel!” 

_ “Four, three-”  _

“What are you doing here?” 

_ “Two, one-”  _

“This.” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by the shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss just as the room erupted into a mess of loud and sloppy “Happy New Year”s. 

Crowley melted into the kiss, feeling Aziraphale’s arms come up to pull him in closer. They stood there for what felt like an eternity, just holding each other and exchanging small kisses. Aziraphale eventually pulled back and looked up at Crowley in wonder. 

“What- how did you- I thought you were staying in London until you heard back?” Aziraphale said, breathless. “Unless… this means…” 

“It does mean,” Crowley answered, just as breathless, diving in for a kiss on the cheek. “They said ‘yes.’ I’m moving to Tadfield, angel.” 

Aziraphale gasped and put his hands over his mouth.    
  
“Really?” he practically squealed. 

“Really.” 

Aziraphale flung his arms back around Crowley and planted more kisses all over his face. They were both a giggling mess by the time Anathema came over and found them, still wrapped up in each other. 

“I take you just got some good news,” Anathema said, arching an eyebrow at the laughing couple. 

“The best! Crowley is staying,” Aziraphale replied, not letting go of Crowley. “Oh, darling,” here, Aziraphale kissed him again and Crowley smiled into it. 

Anathema laughed and offered her congratulations before dragging Newt away. 

“I can’t believe you did it,” Aziraphale said, leaning his forehead against Crowley’s. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t get sick of me after a month,” Crowley replied, sliding his arms down to Aziraphale’s waist. “Are you sure you’re not, yet? Because now that you have me, it’s going to be awfully hard to get rid of me.” 

Aziraphale laughed again and Crowley felt his own laughter bubble up through his chest. He was just so happy.

“I am absolutely sure, you old fool,” Aziraphale replied.

“I guess we should be grateful for that snowstorm at the beginning of the month, huh?” Crowley began gently swaying them back and forth to the music. “Otherwise, we never would have met.” 

“Yes, dear, I dare say it was ineffable.” 

Crowley pulled away looking vaguely affronted. 

“Hey, I’m plenty ‘effable,’” he said in a fake-offended tone. 

“Oh, that you are,” Aziraphale kissed the tip of his nose as Crowley blushed a bright red. “But let’s save that for later. Shall we enjoy the rest of the party?” 

Crowley stammered like an idiot while Aziraphale pulled him off toward Madame Tracy, laughing along the way. They spent the rest of the night dancing, drinking, singing badly and very off-key, giggling, kissing, and enjoying the New Year with friends. 

Crowley could get used to this. And now he finally had time to do so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just one more chapter, the epilogue!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy ever after

_ 7 years later, Christmas Eve in Tadfield _

“Angel, we’re going to be late!” Crowley called up the stairs from the bookshop. “And if we are,  _ you’re _ going to have to explain to Anathema why we missed the start of her Winter-Solstice-but-we-all-know-it’s-a-Christmas-dinner gathering.” 

Crowley glanced in the mirror and fixed his collar. He didn’t really care if they were late, but he did care if they got scolded. 

“Coming, darling,” Aziraphale said, breathlessly, as he appeared at the top of the steps. “Sorry, I was having trouble picking out a bow tie.” 

He jogged down the stairs and bumped into Crowley, who hadn’t moved from where he was standing. 

“Well, excuse me, sir,” Aziraphale said as he put his hands gently on Crowley’s chest. “Has anyone ever told you that red is absolutely your color?” 

“I’ve been told that once or twice,” Crowley replied, smiling. “Has anyone ever told  _ you _ that blue is absolutely  _ your _ color?” 

Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed Crowley softly. 

“Yes, once or twice,” Aziraphale mumbled. “Or rather, every time I wear it, I should say.” 

Crowley continued smiling at him and kissed his forehead. 

“Oh! I almost forgot, I have something for you,” Aziraphale said, dodging another one of Crowley’s kisses. Crowley groaned loudly in response.

“I thought we agreed that we would open presents tomorrow?” Crowley asked as he followed Aziraphale over to the backroom. He leaned against the doorframe and smiled at the memories this backroom held. 

“Yes, we’re opening  _ Christmas  _ presents tomorrow, but this is an anniversary gift,” Aziraphale replied. “It simply cannot wait.” 

Aziraphale shoved a thin, long box at Crowley, covered in tartan wrapping paper. Crowley sighed. Aziraphale was nothing if not consistent.

He began tearing at the paper and realized quickly that it was a photo frame. Once all of the wrapping paper was satisfactorily torn off, he flipped the frame over. It was… This was a… 

“A deed,” Crowley whispered. “Aziraphale, angel, is this what I think it is?” 

Aziraphale was smiling widely at Crowley. 

“Yes, I, er, I think it’s time,” he replied. “Don’t you?” 

Crowley was speechless. They had talked about getting a cottage nearby, one they could share and make their own, but Crowley wasn’t sure Aziraphale was ready for it and now here he was with a  _ deed _ . 

“Are you sure you want to live with me? I can be kind of messy,” Crowley said, feeling tears prick at his eyes. “And I snore loudly, and I have all sorts of annoying kitchen gadgets, and I watch TV too loud, and I-” 

He was cut off by a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Dear, I know,” Aziraphale said. “We practically live together already. I’m just… I’m ready to start our life  _ together _ . Permanently.” 

They both beamed at each other for a moment before Aziraphale looked away and fidgeted with his bow tie. 

“So, uh, is that a ‘yes’?” he asked, quietly. 

“OF COURSE IT’S A ‘YES,’ YOU BLOODY IDIOT!” Crowley yelled before pulling Aziraphale into a tight hug. “Of course, it is. I love you so much, angel.” 

Aziraphale hugged back just as tightly. They stayed in the embrace for a few seconds before Crowley pulled back and began peppering Aziraphale’s face with kisses, a favorite pastime of his. 

“I love you, too, you fool,” Aziraphale said, giggling as Crowley’s lips made their way across his face. “Now, we should get going before-” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s go before the witch kills us,” Crowley responded, releasing Aziraphale and grabbing his coat. 

They made their way out of the bookshop, opting to walk as it wasn’t that cold and the diner was a short stroll away. Crowley reached out and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, intertwining their fingers as they made their way down the block. The lamp posts were covered in fairy lights and wreaths were hanging on every available surface. 

Christmas music was playing somewhere in the distance and Crowley glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Aziraphale taking it all in, sighing happily. He had no idea. 

Crowley opened the diner door for Aziraphale, who was just in the middle of telling a story about a customer from yesterday, when he stopped short. 

“What…” 

Crowley grinned. The diner was covered in small tea candles, a warm glow cast in every corner, and rose petals scattered everywhere. Aziraphale took a few more steps in and ran his hand along the counter.

“What is this?” he asked, looking around in wonder. “Crowley, did you-” 

He turned and found Crowley down on one knee, a small box in his hands. Aziraphale looked down into the box and saw a simple gold ring. His hands flew to his mouth. 

“It looks like we both had the same sort of idea for anniversary presents this year,” Crowley started, chuckling. “Aziraphale Fell, will you marry me?” 

Aziraphale nodded vigorously as Crowley put the ring on his finger and pulled him in for a kiss. Crowley wiped a few stray tears from Aziraphale’s cheek and smiled softly. 

“So… is Anathema not hosting dinner, then?” Aziraphale asked after he was done sniffling. “Because I was really looking forward to those delightful apple, turkey, and gouda finger sandwiches she makes.” 

“Are you seriously thinking about food right now?” Crowley said, betraying his fake annoyance with laughter. “I cannot believe you.” 

“Well, it’s just, I thought we were going to dinner and I am feeling a bit peckish.” 

“What am I going to do with you, my angel?” Crowley fondly said, taking Aziraphale’s hand and kissing the back of it. 

“Love me forever, feed me when I’m hungry, and put up with me when I'm a bit of a bastard?” Aziraphale replied. 

“I think that sounds like a plan.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah i can't believe we're at the end! this is my second long fic that i've ever written and i just wanted to thank all of you for following along!!! your comments have made me so happy and i hope you enjoy the fluff every day. 
> 
> if you want, you can check out my other GOmens fics~
> 
> thanks, again, everyone and happy holidays!


End file.
